


We are not "The Archies"

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Drama, Band Fic, F/M, Jason Blossom Lives, Jason's alive, School Dances, So many lyrics, Teen band, Teenage Drama, The Archies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: On July 3rd, Jason never went missing, bringing together a girl-next-door and the outsider from the wrong side of the tracks. But they get there anyway, thanks to Jason and Archie deciding to start a band. Jughead's on bass. Archie's on everything *cough* Betty hopes the best way to heal a broken heart is through dancing, music and friendship.





	1. You're always there for music and me

**Author's Note:**

> So a huge part of me always wants The Archies to be a thing on Riverdale or the Pussycats to actually have a storyline beyond a glimpse in episodes. Instead I get karaoke and stripper poles. I mean, fair point, it is a darker take, but I was genuinely curious what it might've looked like so I decided to play with writing it. The Pussycats are often a guest appearance because The Archies: Taste of Sweetwater or whatever I decide to call them already have six dramatic people I'm dealing with and it's already got some Glee vibes going on. But yes, it will focus mostly on Bughead because I love their precious nonverbal communication. If there are any fics out there like this, feel free to recommend them in the comments! Lyrics for the mentioned songs are usually at the end. Comments help me write faster and fill my heart with joy so please remember to kudos and comment ^-^

She's dancing with _abandon_.

Bouncing on her bed, Betty can’t think of anything more exciting than _finally_ being on the Vixen squad with her sister Polly and new best friend Veronica Lodge. The swish of the cheerleader skirt inspires her to wiggle even more than usual, loving the feel of the material against her upper thighs. She’s not even _aware_ of the world of thigh chafing. Her ponytail perches high on her head, swinging joyfully along as she basks in the beat. She just can’t get over how _nice_ she looks. While her mother insists the girls look as _perfect_ and put-together as possible, this is the first time since softball that she really feels like she’s _part_ of something. Maybe happiness really _does_ make you glow, because she looks at herself in the mirror and _loves_ what she sees, blowing a kiss to the music. In the confines of her own room, she feels sort of like she’s blossoming. Maybe now other people will start to notice too.

Veronica was the main reason she even got through the tryouts, the girl firmly grasping her hand and insisting she do every move with _gusto._ “Always make sure all eyes are on you, Cooper. When they’re not on me, of course,” she smirked good-naturedly.

“I’m not sure that helps,” Betty murmured, already crossing her arms in front of her chest. As if the pressure for perfection wasn’t enough from her mother.

Sensing her despondence, Veronica grabbed her hands and pushed them out to the side so there couldn’t _be_ any barriers. “You, Betty Cooper, are a stone-cold fox. So in that case, just dance to have fun. Let the music move you, even if it’s not the choreographed moves.”

“What?” Betty blinked confused. “I thought—“

“What have you got to lose? No one who stayed with the pack was ever a success,” Veronica declared triumphantly, loud enough for Head Vixen Cheryl “Bombshell” Blossom to hear. The keen and calculating head cheerleader narrowed her eyes in appreciation for the new girl and definitely kept an eye on her during tryouts.

Betty had danced her heart out, feeling it pound in her ears and chest, even at the end when Cheryl told her she was too much in her own head to join the squad. “I need my girls confident, sexy, and…” her eyes quickly flicked over Betty, “You already have _so much_ on your plate.” Polly looked like she wanted to punch Cheryl at that point, but refrained taking out her on-again off-again boyfriend’s little sister.

Nodding, Betty’d been about to swallow the humiliation ringing in her ears, when suddenly Veronica jerked her closer, whispering, “Trust me.” One spectacular, surprising first kiss later, and the girls had been convinced that Betty _could_ be sexy…within the context of Veronica, but still. It was a small victory. Especially since Veronica saw it there all along.

Betty’s bedroom door peeks open.

“Ready for your first game?” Polly asks, grinning. Polly often left her long hair down, pushing the sandy blonde hair back with a blue headband. If she’d been born just a few decades prior, she’d be the quintessential hippie. Light hazel eyes, similar to Betty’s, but more almond-shaped and steady than the permanent doe-eyes Betty seemed to have going for her.

In her giddiness, Betty mimes reeling her sister into the room with a rope, and her older sister thankfully plays with her game, miming being drawn in until they’re both dancing with abandon to the “pump-up” music blasting on her laptop. Betty can’t help but glance at the mirror again. This is it. This is the happy-go-lucky glory days her mother references needing in high school.

She’s so swept up in the joy of her small success that she completely forgets to close the curtains, and also lets the next door neighbor and his best friend in on a little glimpse of her life.

Archie’s the boy-next-door. A golden (well, ginger) boy, whose parents unfortunately but amicably split that summer to pursue other relationships, his mother off in another city. He’s loyal, kind, and deep without being extremely emotional. His head is easily turned by the opposite sex or a funny joke. Betty’s always shyly sort of thought they’re supposed to end up together, especially since they’ve known each other since they were five. He proposed to her back then, but she told him to wait until they’re 18 and she’d say yes, as if that was the logical age because then she could vote. He’s been working out all summer at his father’s construction company, so his chances of being a total babe under his football uniform are extremely high.

Jughead, his best friend, is more on the lean side. Although he also worked at Fred’s construction during the summer, he spent most of it working and staying at the old drive-in, choosing movies, writing anecdotes and starting novels about the “outsider in a small town” and the goings-on it entailed. He longed for the drama of something _real_ , something beyond his alcoholic father and absentee mother. He ached for his little sister. But he’d known Archie almost as long as Betty. The boys had a voracious appetite for gaming, humor, and food—especially Jughead.

The unlikely pair are in his room, vaguely twiddling with Archie’s latest obsession, making music, when Jughead catches a glimpse of blonde hair bouncing through the window of the girl next door.

“What are you looking at?” Archie asks, brows wrinkled in concentration, ready to jam for another twenty minutes.

Jughead doesn’t bother to hide his amused sideways smile. “Look at Betty.”

Archie leans forward with his guitar, biting his lip. “Aw. Yeah. Got on the squad this year.”

“No, not that,” he laughs, unable to look away just yet. “She’s _happy_. Have you _ever_ been that happy?”

“Dude, you need a girlfriend,” Archie jokes, leaning back on the bed. Jughead sighs and shakes his head, vaguely strumming, but keeping his eye on Betty when he can. That sort of exuberance…he envied and admired it. He had trouble even _smiling_ in front of anyone besides Archie. Sarcasm and indifference was his mask, sauntering down the hallways with big headphones that practically screamed “Don’t talk to me.” He didn’t fit in, and he didn’t want to. He was comfortable having _one_ best friend, even if he never inspired quite the jubilation occurring across the way. That kind of happiness just wasn't in his bones.

Catching his fascination, Archie goes to the window and holds up his phone. “What are you doing?” Jughead asks, confused. He’s _right there_. They could _see him_.

“Taking a video, since it’ll last longer,” Archie teases, catching the last bit of her dancing before her sister comes in and joins.

“Dude. That’s so _American Beauty._ Creepy. What’s next? Filming a plastic bag?”

Archie laughs, his head thrown back in the effortless way he has. “Come on, man. I’ve gotta get ready for the game. You coming tonight?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Um, yeah,” Archie says, scrunching up his face in confusion.

 

* * *

 

Jughead’s fingers curl around the cold steel of the bleachers, tapping a low beat to the music blasting from the speakers. His smile curls at Betty’s enthusiasm with the pompoms. Overall he thinks cheerleading is a giant waste. Athletic, yes. Visually pleasing, sure. But misogynistic as heck. Plus it's not like they ever went to mathletes gatherings. He glances over at Archie, whose hair is somehow still perfectly swished despite wrestling with a bunch of guys for the past 45 minutes. That boy is blessed. He shakes his head, sighing, and leans back, letting his fingers find his keyboard again. Archie’s been _begging_ him to come up with lyrics for his new song, his new obsession. Apparently Miss Grundy the music teacher thinks they really have a shot at winning some kind of battle of the bands, which will help them get a scholarship. Jughead needs all the funding he can get. So he’s been learning what he can, taking it all in, protecting Archie from the creepy fangirl vibes he gets from Grundy, not that his best friend would even notice.

“You have a way with _words_ , Jughead,” Archie insisted. "I need that!"

Sighing, Jughead cranes his neck up at the sky for inspiration. _Have any ideas, universe?_ The football game is background noise, only half-drawing his attention. At the end of the game he has a few lines out, but not nearly anything as poetic as what he’d like. He wants to be the next Truman Capote, not the next Van Halen.

He’s preparing to offer sympathy to Archie for losing the game at the last minute, but he hesitates when he catches sight of the muddied red hair, sliding his laptop into his bag. Polly is holding onto Betty’s arm, whispering something in her ear, before shoving her off towards the redhead she’s _not_ dating. An eye for drama, Jughead walks a little closer, watching Betty shyly approach Archie, tightening her ponytail. Her eyes widen at the sight of his bruised face (someone must’ve finally gotten him), and immediately she reaches to comfort him. Archie jerks back, and Jughead gets the feeling it’s not just from her touch.

Fascinated, Jughead draws closer.

“Why not?” she asks, big eyes, furrowed brow.

“Because, Betty. That’s weird. That’s like, something Polly would do with Jason.”

Her breath hitches in her chest, barely a hiccup beneath her new Vixen uniform. “So?”

“So? You and I…we’re not anything like that,” Archie reasons, obtuse, but Jughead gets the impression that maybe he’s picked up on _something_ , because he’s eyeing Betty warily. “I—I’ve got to go.”

Archie jogs off the field, leaving the blonde cheerleader standing alone, deflated, on the field. She looks lost. Like all her expectations of cheerleaderdom, that glamorous life, have proved she isn’t worthy of even the attention of a football player. Her disappointment weighs her down, an anchor against the hope to fly on whatever teenage version of love was playing through her head. As if realizing she’s still in public, Betty quickly wipes her cheeks, turning and stopping when she sees Jughead staring from across the field. He freezes, paralyzed, aware she’s caught him eavesdropping. Her eyes are a bright, tense green sharp against the field, and Jughead swears she can hear his heartbeat. Her razor sharp expression changes, alert but bewildered, as if somehow eavesdropping was like reading her diary, a total invasion of privacy. Something else startles her out of her focus, and she whips around to run back to her sister. Polly throws him a disgusted glare, putting her arm around her sister and shushing into her ear.

Jughead’s teeth ache from the clench he wasn’t even aware of. He wasn’t _enjoying_ her pain or rejection or whatever that was, even if that’s what it looked like. He wants to apologize, but they’ve barely hung out this summer. What was he supposed to say? Sorry Archie was an ass? Sorry he doesn’t like you? Sorry I got close enough to hear it? Sorry I _exist_?

Every single options makes him feel more like a dick. So instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and lets his cheeks burn away his embarrassment.  When he gets home, his fingers fly across the keys, lyrics becoming a stinging apology mixed with the blubbering horror of rejection. It's not great, it's not Archie, but it's what Jughead knows.

* * *

 

"So...Jason, Jug, and I want to start a band." Jughead looks away from his food for a second, startled. "Grundy says it will really help with applying to scholarships. It'll really help my musical development," Archie quotes, nervously looking around the table. How such a buff gorgeous guy can still feel self-conscious is beyond Veronica, who eyes him brightly. "But, I don't know if it's enough."

“We can help you, Archiekins,” Veronica shrugs easily, dropping her bag between her and a distracted Kevin. Betty shakes her head slowly, eyes wide, trying to signal her. Unfazed, Veronica rolls her eyes. “Jason may be the heartbeat or drummer or whatever, but every successful band has groupies.”

“They sleep with the band,” Betty hisses, already humiliated enough for one week.

“I meant we would _attract_ groupies.” Veronica’s confidence still managed to surprise her sometimes. “Archie has a nice six pack, but he doesn’t know how to use it.” The ginger boy raises his eyebrows, not used to such a cavalier attitude. “Every concert needs its resident hotties singing backup or dancing around to make the whole ambiance even more exciting, right B?” Betty’s hope to escape this unscathed slowly melts, like ice cream left out on the counter. “I can play tambourine and dance, obviously,” she smiles, cheery. “Betty is a _great_ dancer,” she winks, “and I’m sure she can learn to play whatever she wants. Jughead you…” her eyes flicker over the grungey best friend sitting next to him.

Betty’s been stiffly avoiding Archie _and_ Jughead ever since she asked Archie if they could go to the post-game party together. Jughead looks a little embarrassed himself, and Veronica would love to pick his brain over it. She’s never embarrassed by guys. She just dusts herself off, and wants Betty to do the same. It’s no big deal. Plus, music helps people move on. “You can play bass. They’re dark and broody.”

“He already knows it,” Archie supplies helpfully, Veronica’s enthusiasm making him sit a little straighter. “And he helps me write lyrics to the songs.”

“Perfect,” Veronica trills, clasping her hands together like she’s just brokered world peace. She ignores the way Jughead’s shoulders slouch, uncomfortable, and the way Betty avoids looking at anyone. “Kevin, you wanna be—?”

“Last-ditch backup singer and band manager. But I’m only in it for the notoriety, so you better be good enough for Broadway,” is all he says, not even turning away from watching the cross country team making another lap.

“Betty?” Archie asks tentatively, probably aware she’s been avoiding him for three days straight. She was— _is_ —his other best friend. “You in?”

From the way she shifts in her seat, Betty almost looks like she has to run to the bathroom. “Polly’s in if Jason is. Playing keyboard, right? And it would look great on college transcripts,” Veronica offers suggestively.

“We could switch off instruments. I could teach you guitar, or Polly could teach you piano or something,” Archie tries, eagerly leaning towards her. When she bites her lip worriedly, squirming under indecision, his expression softens. “It would really mean a lot to me, Betts.”

Reluctantly, Betty meets his gaze, defeated. “Yeah. I’ll help you out, Archie. We all will.”

Archie’s face lights up like a beacon, and Veronica basks in it for a just a second. “And you, Jughead? You officially in? We can promise something angsty for you every once in a while.”

Annoyed, he glances at Betty, who seems to have wilted. Not sensing any hostility, he looks around the rest of them. Taking a deep breath, he remembers that he really owes Archie a lot by letting him stay over so often. And he could use the scholarship money. “Why not?”

“All right! Three cheers for the Archies!”

“We are _not_ calling it that,” Jughead laughs, and for a second they all seem like just regular friends again.

* * *

 

On their way back from lunch, Jughead jogs to catch up with Betty.

“Oh, Jughead…um, can I help you?” she asks, and it’s all he can do not to kick himself for being the most awkward non-friend in the world hovering at her elbow.

“I just wanted to apologize for kind of…hovering a few days ago. You were having a moment, and—“

“It’s okay, Jug.” Her eyes fall to the floor, watching about five steps ahead. He wonders if that’s how her family always is, telling her the next step instead of letting her decide for herself. “I probably would have listened in too.”

“Yeah, but I know what it’s like to take an emotional dropkick to the gut, so I should’ve respected your privacy. It’s the writer in me. I’m always trying to experience things through someone else’s eyes.”

Her gaze falters on him, curious, distrusting. “Why would you want to experience rejection?”

The question stings, but he’s not sure why. “I think you’d have to put yourself out there to get rejected,” he shrugs, shouldering his bag a little closer.

“Oh, Jug, I’m sorry.” A familiar pang of anger shoots though his chest as she visibly remembers and pities that his mother left. Her hand almost reaches for his shoulder, but she seems to remember his anxiety about other people touching him, and lets it fall. “I guess we all feel things differently.” The way she says it, quietly, subversive, makes him feel like he’s being swallowed into a movie. But he doesn’t know the script. They’re not the Breakfast Club, despite some obvious parallels. He wants to pry open her brain and see what’s happening inside instead of trying to literally peer through the supposed windows of her soul which are currently contemplative. Ah, she catches him staring…again. Only slightly ashamed, Jughead decides to look at his feet. His feet are safe.

“Anyway, just wanted to clear the air between us.”

“It’s clear, Jug. Just—promise me you won’t write about it?” she pleads, meadow-green eyes meeting his. “You’re an _amazing_ writer, and I’d hate my humiliation to be captured so brutally.”

His breath catches in his throat. Their brief exchange had inspired thousands of words and one rough lyric sheet. But he manages to stabilize, nodding. “Only happy endings for one Betty Cooper. Got it.”

She lets out a little laugh. “That’s kinda unlikely, don't you think?” They trek the remainder of the courtyard to class amicably, chatting about the latest English assignment.

* * *

 

“Something’s not right,” Veronica sighs, tapping her chin contemplatively as her eyes graze them all. All of a sudden, she puts her finger on it at the same time Jason calls out his _opinion_.

The jock's vibrant red eyebrow rocks upwards, judging. “It’s Jughead. Do you…move your legs?”

Jughead looks stricken, confused. “Yeah?”

“Try moving your hips,” Veronica advises, sticking hers out for show.

_Oh god._

He’s about to start playing again, waiting, when he realizes all eyes are still on him. “ _Now?_ ”

“Yeah! How else are we gonna know?”

“There’s not even any music!” he protests, pic in the air.

“Here, play something he likes. Nirvana or something,” Veronica orders, quickly moving over to the stereo.

Betty’s bewildered eye roll catches his attention. “He doesn’t like Nirvana, Veronica.” She blushes, glancing at his pained expression for confirmation. “Well, I mean, not _just_ because he wears plaid.”

Jughead wants to melt into the floor and die as they keep throwing out emo boy band alternatives, Jason even mentioning _The Cure_.

“How do you even _know_ them?” Jughead asks, dumbfounded.

“Don’t be offended, Jughead,” Veronica says matter-of-factly. “We’re just trying to get a taste of what you like.”

“What I’d _like_ is to play.”

At his exaggerated frustration, Betty has to bite down on a smile. “I’ll help him.” At his pained expression, she promises, “I’m a lot nicer than Veronica. Trust me.”

Veronica raises her eyebrows pointedly, phone raised and ready to play something like “Hips Don’t Lie.” She’d probably touch him, too, insisting he needed to loosen up and do yoga or something. Groaning, Jughead agrees. “Fine. But no mentioning my hips or twerking crap.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” she grins, and even though he’s still glowering, he can’t help but hope that she’s right.

* * *

 

“What are we doing here?” he asks, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

“I thought maybe you’d feel more comfortable somewhere familiar,” she shrugs, the curve of her shoulder catching his attention. He’s been noticing a lot of things about Betty lately. It’s weird for him to notice things like the slope of her shoulder or the way she seems to prance up on her toes when she’s happy, but he swears it’s just because he’s a _writer_ now and needs to know these little details. It helps bring his characters to life, the same way Archie’s hormones help him write love songs.

She hops up on the light-up board, swinging around to beam at him. “Your challenge awaits,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows.

Dubious, he surveys the game. “DDR? Really? You think stepping on light-up arrows is going to teach me how to dance?”

“No. I think you already know how to dance, Jug. This will just help loosen you up.” At his eyebrow raise, she softens, hands grasping the railing attached. “Okay, it also helps with rhythm and timing. Come on. It’s fun!”

“Fun? For you, maybe,” he scoffs, listening to something by someone called Cap’N Jack blast in demo mode.

But she pouts a little, and suddenly there’s a lilt in his breathing. Damn her and those doe eyes. It’s a good thing she’s only slightly aware of her hold on people when she’s super sweet. Like anyone can refuse that.

“Come on, it’s ten minutes. My treat,” she promises, popping coins in the machine. She backs up, the pink glow of the screen only accentuating her focused bite on her lips. “Which one do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighs, fingers looped in his back pocket.

“Ohhh I think it does,” she grins cheekily. “You’re gonna regret it if you let me pick. Are you suuuure?”

His head leans back, annoyed. “Surprise me.”

“Okay. Here’s a few of my favorites,” she admits, fingers moving quickly as she scans through the songs, selecting them and their difficulties.

“Why are you on Normal? Aren’t you on Expert yet?” he asks, half-teasing.

Her giggle breaks through the heavy bass of the machine. “No, not at all. I’m out of practice, but Polly and I used to do this all the time. It was fun. Even if you’re not the best dancer, it’s more about sharing the experience with the other person.”

She moves back to the platform, clearly wading through the memory. A fond memory with her sister. Against his better judgment to avoid anything bubbly, Jughead decides to give her a chance. “Okay. Let’s do this,” he sighs, not wanting to be _too_ eager.

The first song is something so sugary sweet he kind of wants to die. It starts off too easy. Left. Right. Up. Left. LeftLeft. RightRight. UpRight. He glances over, the heaviness of his boots making way more noise than her Keds. Her little smirk tells him she _knows_ this is easy for right now.

“Everyone plays differently, the same way everyone dances differently,” she explains. “For example, in my head, it helps to think _Left, Right, Left_ , but on the faster songs that doesn’t work, I don’t have time, so I have to let the beat lead. Other people get so comfortable they can come up with routines, or swap places, or do backflips and stuff.”

“Please kill me if we ever get to the point where we’re doing a routine.”

Betty laughs, her eyes twinkling in a way that pulls at Jughead’s stomach. He’s probably just hungry from this monotonous game.

“Don’t you ever find this repetitive?” he asks, jumping to do a combo, watching her hair bounce as she does the same.

“No, because even if it’s a song I’ve done before, it’s still fun to do the best you can or mix it up, you know? Especially with a friend.” She waits expectantly. After a moment, she turns, disappointed. Her mouth turns down at the corners, brow creasing in concentration on the screen.

After a second he realizes what she’d been waiting for. Stupid. He could’ve smiled. It’s just…weird for him. “We are,” he nods in her direction, gaze flickering from her to the screen. “Friends. Well, we’re getting better at it,” he offers gently, and her smile is so bright that he can’t help but give her a little one back. “Okay. So show me these so-called HARD levels.”

Within half an hour, they’re soaked through with sweat and adrenaline. It’s possibly the last game he ever thought would be this much fun, but it is. The songs are usually silly but catchy, and Jughead gets a glimpse of the carefree Betty he saw in through the window as she sings along every second she has enough breath, her face contorting with focus and emotion throughout what he can only describe as a _performance_. But for whom? Certainly not him.

Throughout, he catches little glimpses of how she learned to dance. Beyond the feet stomping, once she gets into the groove, she starts swinging her elbows or throwing glances and dramatic hair flips his way. Although he’s not quite that enthusiastic yet, he thinks he could be. He even starts to salute during “In the Navy,” bellowing the deep male parts with a serious frown, picking up on when the crescendo is coming in a song, fingers out to be ready to pick up his feet. It’s been a while since he’s enjoyed himself this much with a girl. Well, actually since his sister. But she’s topped his expectations.

“Against my better judgment,” he admits, wiping his face on his sleeve. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“Really?” she practically squeals. She almost reaches out to grab his arm, but he can see her physically restrain herself. Part of him wants her to test his personal bubble for his own satisfaction, but instead she clasps her own hand, burying the glee in a happy, quiet place within her chest. “Wanna get something to eat? I’m famished.”

“Always,” he sighs, relieved.

“My treat,“ she offers, which makes him trust her infinitely less. “What?” she asks, confused at his change in demeanor.

“Do you even _know_ me? That’s a dangerous move.”

“I think I can handle it,” she says, lowering her voice to match the dangerous tone.

“Your bill, Cooper,” he shrugs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Nodding, she practically prances at his side to the snack bar. He glances over, amused as she taps her fingernails on the glass, eyeing the desserts. “What’ll you have?”

Biting her lip, her eyes hover nervously over the menu. “Um, a slice of cheese pizza please?”

“And what do you want for dessert?”

Her eyes flit nervously back to the snacks there. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Come on, Betts, if I can dance, you can have dessert.” He notices her ears flush pink at the use of the pet name. A little uncomfortable, he teases, “We must’ve burned a thousand calories in the march of insanity. Come on. I’ll buy it, this once.”

“Okay,” she smiles, biting her lip. “That one.”

“Excellent choice.” He turns back to the cashier. “I will take one pepperoni pizza please.”

Surprised, she glances at him. “Are you sure?”

Smirking, he nods. “I know myself.”

Eating with her is easy. At first, he’s a little self-conscious about the way she delicately brings each bite to her lips, one hand hovering just underneath to catch any dripping crumbs. His method is really more of a fit-food-in-mouth routine, not always the smallest of bites. But she smiles as they eat, and he’s surprised she knows so many movies and books, especially since her parents seem a little overprotective.

“My sister and I would sneak over to Archie’s or use the basement,” she shrugs. “You should’ve seen the compromising positions our Barbies were in after seeing Rocky Horror Picture Show. We had them reenacting the pool scene.” Jughead laughs, catching the pizza before it can fully leave his mouth. “My mom caught us one time and it was _bad_ for Ken,” she remembers a little mischievously. He’s not sure why he’s only focusing on the bright parts of her. She’s not some giggly, sunshine, space cadet. She’s bright. Empathetic. Maybe that’s what’s weirding him out, even as her gaze hovers on the rest of the arcade, it always comes back to rest on him, really _listening_ and responding to what he has to say beyond the sarcasm, putting together little pieces of information while understanding it’s just a glimpse of the bigger picture.

There are other empathetic listeners at their school. Polite girls, nice girls. They would pity Jughead, or just smile nicely and watch him devour a whole pizza with a little awe or disgust on their faces. Betty seems unperturbed, contributing to the conversation without necessarily pushing it or forcing questions to mindless chatter. She feels more like an honest to goodness friend, to be honest.

“So why did you tell Veronica I wasn’t all into Nirvana?” he asks, tongue shoving a piece of half-chewed pizza to a recess in his cheek for safekeeping.

Her shoulders raise about an inch in a lopsided shrug. “I don’t know. I feel like people always think I’m supposed to be into Taylor Swift and Britney Spears just because I’m a natural blonde.” Before he can ask, she nods. “And I _do_ like them, but it’s not all I like. And I certainly don’t like _all_ of their stuff,” she muses, picking at the last little piece of her pizza. “So I didn’t want her pigeon-holing you as some grunged-out Cobain fan. You could like a million things. Music is emotion, so we’re not limited to just _one favorite_.” She pauses, glancing up at him. “What would _you_ want to dance to?”

Taking a deep breath, he squints his eyes and tries to think about it. “Mmm I think Cap’n Jack would’ve done it for me.” She graces him with a pity-chuckle. “But really, I don’t care what we play. As long as it’s not Taylor Swift,” he drawls, raising one sardonic eyebrow in her direction.

Shaking her head, Betty plays with the last of the cheese on her plate. “You’d be surprised. Covers can really change up what the original sounds like. _Every Step You Take_ or whatever that song is about loving someone after they’re gone…there was this _crazy_ metal cover that makes it sound like the singer is stalker hell-bent on killing the recipient. Crazy,” she repeats, nodding.

“You want to sing some stalker covers of Taylor Swift?” he teases, shifting more pizza in his mouth.

He earns himself a chastised head shake, and can’t help but flex his toes in pride. It probably takes a lot to annoy Betty Cooper.

Even though it’s snack bar pizza, the flavor bursts in his mouth just the same. Fuel. Glorious, delicious fuel. He takes another bite, watching her twirl the cheese onto her finger. Just as he’s about to ask what she’s doing, she slips her finger into her mouth, sucking the salty grease slowly.

A sickening twisting feeling takes hold of his abdomen, and suddenly he doesn’t feel like he can swallow. Her eyes flick up to him innocently, then with some hesitance. “You okay?”

He _cannot_ tell her he has a stiffy brewing under the table, so he readjusts himself as subtly as he can. It’s just because she’s with such delicious food. And he’s a teenage boy with… _needs_ , he supposes. He closes his eyes against the internal thought, pushing aside the embarrassing hormonal thoughts and forcing out a stupid anecdote to distract them both. “Okay, if I had to pick one band that people probably think I like that I probably in some universe _do_ like, it would be Fall Out Boy.”

“Really?” she brightens. “I love them! What’s your favorite song?”

“I Don’t Care,” he responds straight, aware of the way she has to hide a smile.

“So _you,_ ” she admonishes lightly, cleaning her space. “Although to be fair, I don’t think that’s true.”

“What’s not?”

“I think you care,” she replies, wiping up her crumbs into a plate with her napkin.

It’s not meant be mean, but it still strikes him as an oddly presumptuous thing to say. She must sense his stiffening demeanor, southern body parts excluded, because she clarifies, “I think you present yourself the way you want to. I think it matters to you that you don’t hold yourself to the same standard as other people.” Just as he’s about to make a crack about hygiene, she keeps on. Girls talk a lot more than Archie, and it throws him off a little. “Veronica’s the same way. She tells me that people have their own energy to put out in the world, and the better you think of what you have to offer, the easier it is to get people to want it. I’d call it self-confidence, but she calls it _effortless grace_ ,” Betty chimes, faux-admiring the phrase before glancing back at him. “You both have it. I’m quite jealous.”

It’s not every day Jughead gets described as having _effortless grace_ , and he has to take a few moments before he can even get back to eating the rest of his pizza. The stunned expression on his face makes her steer to safer topics. Favorite pizza places, favorite games, et cetera. He tries not to salivate too hungrily when she peels back the wrapping of her ice cream sandwich. Catching his focus, she breaks it in half and hands them both out for him to choose.

“Normally I have to steal food from Archie,” he chuckles, confused. It was just so instant, so easy for her to share. Probably comes from having a home with enough to food to go around. “They say friends have to ask for food and best friends just help themselves. Explains why I’ve stuck to the one friend who lets me snag their french fries.”

“Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll be stealing food off your plate,” she shrugs good-naturedly.

“Yeah. On a tour bus,” he teases, and her small smile makes him bite his lips. Her must be really hungry.

He can either choose the half delicately splayed between her fingers, which will most likely stick to her fingers, or he can go for the potentially smaller half still in the wrapper. Hungry, he goes for the larger half in her grasp, delicately handing it off. Their fingers brush, despite her efforts, but it doesn’t make him anxious at all. Curious. His lips encircle the frozen treat, and he lets his tongue dissect it quickly, moaning. “You use a vanilla hand lotion or something?”

Wary, almost amused, she looks at her fingers. “Why?”

“I taste a little more vanilla than usual,” he explains, face furrowed as if he’s an expert. He wriggles his own fingers for effect.

“No. Not today. That’s probably just the sandwich or my sweat or something,” she smiles, embarrassed, shaking her head.

“You sweat _vanilla_?” he asks, leaning forward. “Damn, we should do this more often.”

It’s worth a grin, and he manages to keep his little friend a little more calm when she absently licks her fingers clean from the ice cream sandwich residue. He can’t help staring though, sucking on his own lower lip to keep himself sated.

“Well, I should probably get home and get showered,” she sighs, scooting out of the booth. “Maybe next time you’ll let me show you the actual moves?”

Panic _almost_ rises in his chest, but he smothers it with indifference, his legs swinging out into the aisle. “Are we not learning actual _moves_ today? I don’t think Veronica would approve.”

“You’re not _that_ hopeless,” Betty chides. At his hesitant glance, she folds. “Well, I guess you could shower at my place. Or we could do the Wii dancing first.”

Shoving aside thoughts of getting naked at Betty’s house, because honestly he can’t handle that at this point, he asks, “Wii dancing? Are you serious?”

“You like games! I have useful dancing games! Trust me, Jug,” she smiles, and the way it lights up her eyes makes him want to sit here and eat pizza, watching her suck the salt off her fingers all day.

What a stupid fucking thing to think.

“Let’s do it.”

* * *

 

The Wii games make him feel exponentially more stupid, but more free at the same time. It’s mostly the arms involved, even though Betty vehemently encourages whole-body mimicry to the point of over exaggeratedly kicking her legs out a la a Russian dancer during one of the weirder song challenges. For the most part he notices she loves following and singing along to the choreographed silhouettes on the screen. It’s hard for her to break out of those patterns. Through panting breaths, she tries to explain that every song had its own dance style that could be adapted.

“Yeah, I get it,” he pants back. “When’s the next snack break?”

“Oh, are you playing Just Dance?” Polly trills, and Jughead whirls around. He shouldn’t be tense just because her sister has joined them, but he can’t help feel like the attitude in the room has shifted. Betty becomes more gracious host than dance-pal.

“Jughead’s getting pretty good. I think I taught him a few moves,” she says proudly, although he’s not sure if it’s for him or her sister.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself. I’m sure when the time comes I’ll have no idea what to do with any of this,” he remarks dryly, grandly gesturing to the entirety of his body.

“Want the Cooper girls to show you how it’s done?” Polly asks, arching her eyebrows expectantly. Knowing how intense it can be to challenge a Cooper, Jughead surrenders his controller.

“Oh! Jughead, if you want, we have some fruit in the refrigerator. Do you want me to grab it for you? Or—“ Betty twists in her socks anxiously, not sure exactly what level of friendship they’re at, what level of hostess she really needs to be on.

“I’ll see how helping myself goes,” he smiles wryly, catching her reference. The breathless grin she sends him nearly knocks the smirk right off his face, sending him floating like a dandelion on the breeze of a wish.

Her brightness turns to her sister, who’s chosen an interactive challenge where they actually have to dance with each other for some parts. It’s silly, dramatic, and as he wanders back in with a face full of grapes, he watches the girls erupt into chest-shaking laughter attempting to dip one another and spin. It’s cute. And Jughead normally finds cute things sickening…unless they’re dogs or something. It makes him think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to do this with the right person. The only one he can think of is Archie, but even that might be awkward. Maybe…just _maybe_ Betty will do. Her fridge is full of snacks. And if they _have_ to touch, maybe he’ll get that lingering vanilla aftertaste as a reminder. That’s not so bad, all things considered. 

* * *

 

They’re supposed to be focusing on the “beats,” but he can feel the band’s gaze flickering over to him. It’s like he’s a kid toddling near a pool and they’re just waiting for him to fall in. He has to consciously remind himself to move. It’s really just bobbing along at this point. They don’t say anything, so he assumes it’s fine, or at the very least better than before. He relaxes as the girls take center stage in a breakdown. Veronica says something cheeky to Betty, who rolls her eyes, and then suddenly they’re both stomping and rolling their hips, shimmying their shoulders in a mirrored jaunt to the interim music on the stereo. Jughead’s not sure if he’s salivating or if everything has gone dry, because his mouth feels _full_. It’s weird, and he desperately wants to shove something in his mouth just to check. Sometimes he’ll find a spare pic and suck on it, just to give himself something to do.

It gets easier. It really does. He keeps playing games with Betty, getting more involved. Their favorite is D.A.N.C.E. or C’mon with the Wii dance games. The silhouette of the prior is of a girl in pigtails, and the dance is reminiscent of doing jumprope without the prop. He’s fairly certain she likes it because her ponytail bounces steadily in that song (something he actively thinks brings her joy), and he likes it because it’s the easiest on his shoes, even though it really gets his heart racing. Sometimes he can get her to vary off the pre-programmed dance to do a collaborative mini-wave, which he considers a huge accomplishment.

During practice, Archie croons “All My Lovin’” along with the rest of the band, and for once Jughead finds himself moving along with them to the front of their makeshift stage and smiling at Betty, who sends him a flirty wink and smile amidst her vocals. He knows it’s for the show. And even when she’s circling Archie, who’s possibly the luckiest man on earth, he can’t help but be excited for when she comes back around. Sometimes he goes up and supports Archie against his back while playing the role of “Best Mate to Lean On” during the show, but he often doesn’t have much to do since his hands are full. His besties actively try to include everyone when they _want_ to be included.

Polly is annoyingly inseparable from Jason and the piano, except for when Betty pleads for what she calls a “sister moment” involving some kind of duet. But the sexual or romantic stuff she obviously gets seated with Veronica for. And sometimes they alternate with Archie, sandwiching him in what Jughead considers a Napoleon sandwich of hair. Occasionally Kevin will join on backup vocals and Betty will dance with him, leaving Archie and Veronica to shamelessly make eyes at each other.

It doesn’t _really_ bother him that he doesn’t have anyone to dance with. He’s the bassist. They just kind of stand in the corner looking brooding, which is what he’s been practicing for the past ten years. But then during a break, their song comes on. D.A.N.C.E. Betty’s ponytail whips around in her excitement, and Jughead can’t help but smile back. “Do you remember it?” she asks, teeth worrying the bottom of her lip.

“Let’s see,” he offers, and while the others sit in the back taking a water break, they move to the front of the garage, falling into step, faux-jumprope.

“Oh my god. What is _this_?” Veronica asks, eyes gleaming. It should make Jughead uncomfortable, but he’s actually doing okay, even remembering some of the moves that Betty falters on just from muscle memory.

“It’s from that game, Just Dance,” Polly offers, tilting her head back for a drag of water.

“I _love_ it,” she preens, pulling out her phone and pressing “record.”

“Aw, come on,” Jughead protests, gesturing to the camera. “No paparazzi, please.”

“This has to be recorded for posterity,” Veronica chides, completely unmoved. “Kevin is going to _love_ this.” Jughead shoots an alarmed glance over to Betty, whose face is a little pinched, but more in curiosity than anything else. “You should do this as a bit during the set breaks! He’ll love that.”

“Me and Betty?” Jughead clarifies, hand movements slowing, but somehow his feet still finding the rhythm.

Betty shrugs, big eyes finding his. “What do you think, Jug?”

He tries to ignore Archie’s slightly concerned put-off face, Veronica’s hungry enthusiasm, and Jason and Polly’s indifference. Betty’s waiting for him to decide. What _does_ he think? His breath catches in his chest, stuttering on the image of their feet moving in tandem, just before answering, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Veronica’s astounded laugh breaks through the music, as does her following squeal of glee. “You guys are so _cute_ together!”

His attention jerks from Betty over to the crowd, suddenly ashamed and proud and all sorts of weird things. “Don’t panic, Jughead, it’s a good thing,” Veronica amends, rolling her eyes. Polly and Jason exchange a knowing glance, one that makes his breath constrict. What are those judgmental lovebirds thinking?

Betty seems a little surprised, but pleasantly so, as if she’s never really been called _cute_ with anyone before Archie before. Her voice lilts out the out the song and draws him back, relaxing his muscles from the fight or flight mode that had clearly been activated. He could run. The steady increase in his heartbeat makes him think he could probably make it to the next town over. But instead, Betty smiles at him, and his heart pulses through his throat with the stubborn insistence that he better stay exactly where he is and finish this dance as her _partner_. 

* * *

 

After practice, Archie wipes his sweat on the back of his arm. “Hey Betty,” he calls, for some reason Jughead looking over as well as his blonde next door neighbor. “You think you could give me some feedback on one of the songs?”

She hesitates, almost halfway in a stretch, and Archie notes the way Jughead’s eyes flicker over her backside. _That’s_ new. 

“Sure, Arch,” she decides, running a nervous hand along her ponytail. Veronica flickers a wary gaze over both of them.

“You need an extra hand, Arch?”

“Nah. Just Betty.” At her questioning eyebrow, he clears his throat. “It’s in reference to something we used to do as kids.”

“Maybe Jughead should join then,” Veronica offers, arms crossing and hip out. “Or Polly.” She can be intimidating sometimes. Archie shakes his head.

Thankfully, Polly steps in on his behalf. “Oh, Betty and Archie used to be in their own little world. It’s fine,” she waves. “I’ll tell Mom you’ll be home in an hour?”

“Maybe a little later,” Archie shrugs. Betty looks at him, confused. Jughead looks a little put out, but he often gets jealous when it comes to Archie spending time with other people. Thankfully he gets over it fast.

“Okay,” Polly says carefully, closing her water bottle. “Have fun.” Polly probably knows about Betty’s little confession and crush. The thought makes him giddy now, for some reason.

Jughead and Veronica exchange a wary glance, but Archie’s focus lingers on the blonde in front of him. She chews her lip expectantly. “Where do you wanna go?”

“How about Pop’s? We can grab a bite to eat and then I can go over some of the lyrics.”

“Yeah, that sounds okay,” she nods, smoothing her ponytail with her hands.

Already a little relieved, Archie quickly puts away his guitar, almost forgetting to lock the garage behind them all. He offers his goodbyes to the crew and hops in the old jalopy in the driveway. Jughead hesitates, running a hand roughly over his beanie before disappearing on the back of his bike.

Betty clambers into the side of Archie’s pickup, hands smoothing the interior with care. “I really wish you’d let me just fix up this old thing.”

Archie’s never really been one to care about cars, but the thought makes him happy. Getting his car fixed up by his best gal pal? “Yeah, maybe. You could come over tomorrow and we could do something with it.”

“Okay,” she concedes, smiling brightly, and Archie easily mirrors it back at her.

He’s got a little bit of swagger by the time he chooses their booth in Pop’s. _Their_ booth, her reminds himself with some amount of glee.

“You know, I still remember what you said. About this being our place, the place you feel safest, the most yourself,” he smirks, leaning back. “That still true?”

Betty opens her mouth, words not fully forming on her lips. Her eyes shift uncomfortably to his shoulder. “Um, in some ways. I think the past few months have taught me a lot about opening up and being comfortable with who I am. The band has really helped with that,” she admits, fingers pricking at her palms.

“Yeah? Music has a way of doing that,” he concedes, spreading his legs out in the booth. “It brings people together. Isn’t that what you said?” Betty flushes, tightening her thighs in the booth and swallowing audibly. He grins, pleased at the way she still responds to him. How did he not see it before? She's always been  _there_ for him, to talk about whatever he needs without the eye-rolling or judgment that comes with venting to Jughead or the punches and jokes that come from the Bulldogs.

“So,” she says thickly, lashes long against her cheeks as she busies herself looking at the table, fiddling with a napkin. “What’s this new song you’d been thinking of?”

“Oh,” he remembers, leaning forward. “It’s called _What I’ve Been Looking For_.”

* * *

 

“Archie?” Betty sighs, trying to get his attention for the second time. “The plumber’s wrench?”

“Oh! Sorry,” he mumbles, handing off the tool and going back to his phone. Most of this _working on the car_ has been _her_ fixing it up _for_ him. She wouldn’t mind if he actually kept her company while she did it. Even though her dad wasn’t much of a talker in the garage, at least he stayed focused. Betty irritatedly wipes the grease from her face.

“What are you even looking at?” she asks tightly.

“It’s Val.” Betty resists throwing the wrench at his back. What an idiot. Although she’s not sure if she’s more annoyed at _him_ or at herself. “She says the Pussycats are headlining the Riverdale Walk, but they may have an open spot for the set list or something.”

“Oh,” she blinks, surprised. “Yeah, Arch! That’s _amazing_.”

“I know,” he chuckles lightly, turning to lean against the car again. She suppresses her internal sigh. After a few more minutes of him typing, laughing, and generally doing nothing, Betty closes the lid of his pickup.

“All set.”

“Hey, great.” He puts his phone down for a second, reaching one arm out for a hug. “Thanks, Betts. You’re a dream.”

She hugs him back with just her wrists, not wanting to get motor oil on his shirt. It doesn’t send that jolt of electricity through her like usual. All these abs pressed against her overalls should have her feeling _something_ , right? In fact, when he kisses the side of her head, a mouthful of hair, she doesn’t feel much of anything.

Hovering her hands in the air, Betty wonders how she’s going to open the door to her house. Alice would kill her if she got motor oil on even the garage keypad where the extra rags are kept.

“Oh, here,” Archie says, leading her to the side of the house with the hose. He twists the knob quickly, testing the spray before aiming for her hands. Sensing her quietness, a small smirk quirks up his face. Before she can get out a warning, he flicks the nozzle upwards, spraying her face and chest in freezing cold water.

“Archie!” she squeals, raising a leg in defense. His good-natured laugh carries down the driveway. “Uh,” she shakes her head, annoyed but endeared to the idiot in front of her. “You are five, you know that?”

“Just part of my _boyish charm_ he teases, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth. Sighing, she feels a little tug of affection for him. Maybe she’s not _as_ over him as she’d like to think.

* * *

_Songs this chapter..._

_All My Lovin' - The Beatles_   


Close your eyes and I'll kiss you  
Tomorrow I'll miss you  
Remember I'll always be true  
And then while I'm away  
I'll write home every day  
And I'll send all my loving to you

I'll pretend that I'm kissing  
The lips I am missing  
And hope that my dreams will come true  
And then while I'm away  
I'll write home every day  
And I'll send all my loving to you

All my loving I will send to you  
All my loving, darling I'll be true

All my loving I will send to you  
All my loving, darling I'll be true

 

 

_D.A.N.C.E. by Justice_

 

Do the D.A.N.C.E.  
One, two, three, four, fight  
Stick to the B.E.A.T.  
Get ready to ignite

  
You were such a P.Y.T.  
Catching all the lights  
Just easy as A.B.C.  
That's how you make it right

 

Do the D.A.N.C.E.  
One, two, three, four, fight  
Stick to the B.E.A.T.  
Get ready to ignite

  
You were such a P.Y.T.  
Catching all the lights  
Just easy as A.B.C.  
That's how you make it right

 

Do the D.A.N.C.E.  
Stick to the B.E.A.T.  
Just easy as A.B.C.  
Do the dance

Do the dance

  
The way you move is a mystery  
Do the dance  
You're always there for music and me  
Do the dance

  
The way you move is a mystery  
Do the dance  
You're always there for music and me

Do the D.A.N.C.E.

  
One, two, three, four, fight  
Stick to the B.E.A.T.  
Get ready to ignite  
You were such a P.Y.T.  
Catching all the lights  
Just easy…

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang has their first taste of success at Sweetwater River Walk, and some familiar feelings start building up within Betty, especially watching her best friend grind on her former flame. But is it because she longs for the red haired boy or because she's afraid that she's going to get hurt again? Polly starts catching on to Betty's attachment to Jughead at the after-party.

The song itself is going well, Jughead thinks. He’s actually having a good time playing it. It’s some Swedish song Polly found, but it’s catchy and had been going viral through the upperclassmen’s iTunes the past month, a line dance going with it. Jason and Archie sing lead, Polly obviously playing into being Jason’s girl but Archie has a hard time not staring at Veronica, who shakes her way to center stage on more than one occasion. They have a minor spat as to who will play the girl they fight over. Polly’s clearly only got eyes for Jason, finding Archie immature and, although she doesn’t say it, always thought of him and Betty together. Archie the potential future brother-in-law. Even pretending to flirt with him probably feels a little incestuous in some ways. Veronica has a ton of the devil-may-care flirtatious energy the song demands, but Polly is _not_ having Jason even _fake_ interest in another girl right in front of her.

“It’s _acting!_ ” Jason protests.

“It’s _not happening!_ ” Polly argues back.

Jughead notes Betty’s sharp intake of breath at their raised voices. The bickering fades to white noise as he notices her fists curl into themselves, her arms covering her chest.

No one ever registers the quiet power of Betty Cooper, Jughead notes with a familiar sense of despondence. They only ever have her play second fiddle as Veronica’s sexy bicurious friend or the sweet girl next door. I mean, it fits, but he struggles not to pigeon-hole her. She doesn’t belong between Jason and Archie, flirting shamelessly. It’s true, it _should_ be Veronica, even if Polly is the one who discovered the song.

“What if Jason sings lead, and I flirt mostly with Archie?” Veronica offers, palm outward as if this is the most obvious answer.

“No,” Polly fumes.

“Come _on_ , Polly. We’ve already said we’re going to do the song. We can give you guys a duet somewhere else,” Archie begs, head hung back in annoyance.

Polly sends scathing glances across the group. “I see how it is. Fine. But you lay off of Jason, Thunder Thighs,” Polly warns, glaring at Veronica before taking her place by the portable piano.

A few mouths open in surprise at Polly’s jibe, but Jason just shakes his head like he’s used to her overbearing nature. “Polly,” Betty says quietly, but her sister waves her off and starts the countdown.

During the actual performance is the first time Jughead actually feels comfortable enough playing and looking around at the same time. His eyes much prefer the nonjudgmental muted garage walls. Catching the gaze of curious or judgmental Riverwalk patrons makes him uncomfortable. Instead he studies his fellow bandmates. Jason _feels_ the music, reacting viscerally to every note, gaze only diverting to his bandmates if it _really_ takes his attention or he’s acting out the lyrics. Polly tries to let the music flow through her to dictate her expression to the crowd, but Alice’s forced rigidity sometimes restricts the hippie vibe and forces that patented Cooper focus through. Polly’s eyes cling to Jason possessively during his drum solos, watching the sweat sling from his arms in his zest for music. Veronica looks at _everyone_ , including the crowd. She’s a _huge_ flirt, but it works for her because she seems to be having fun. At first, Archie looks like the mere presence of the crowd is enough to make him hurl, but once Betty and Veronica are at his side, he seems to righten, color returning to his face. In fact, he throws his friends a glance whenever he can, even waltzing over to have guitar-offs with Jughead once in a while. This is _clearly_ his passion but right now he lacks the confidence for true star power. Between the girls, though, Archie takes on a different persona…a typical heartthrob who croons to the girls and fans he loves.

Jughead has to shake his head at that. _Love may be a strong word. This is Archie. There’s a new girl every two minutes for this guy_. In fact, he notes Archie make eyes at a smug-looking Valerie offstage on more than one occasion.

Jughead tries not to study Betty too much. He feels weird for getting so possessive over her, and it just makes him miserable that he can’t be happy that his two best friends are reconnecting. While at first she’s a bundle of nervous energy, Veronica’s gusto seems to put her at ease. During the songs, she tries to spread the love evenly, clearly drawn to Veronica as her rock but sharing what smiles she can to her other friends. Jughead usually just acknowledges the attention with a head nod. But he gets worried the longer the performance goes on. Veronica starts to lay it on a little thick, more so than in rehearsal. At one point she actually straddles Archie's legs and arches her back against him. Betty looks to Polly for comfort or reassurance, but doesn’t find it, Polly’s gaze lingering on Jason. Jughead’s heart beats faster, and he has to swallow against the desire to call out to her as her face falls, those beautiful green eyes suddenly becoming downcast. He can see her trace her palms with her nails before getting back to the dance.

Jughead turns back to Archie and Veronica, watching the way her arms drape over the redhead’s shoulders, feeling his muscles and eye-flirting all she’s worth. It could just be for the song, the crowd. But Betty looks a little faint. Jughead’s never tried actually _moving_ across the stage before, but he takes a few tentative steps away from his amp. Betty seems to realize _someone_ is looking at her, and rightens, not able to quite hide the pain behind her eyes. Jughead tilts his chin at her, nonverbally asking, “Are you okay?”

She glances hesitantly at the pair flirting up at the front, then ducks her head and scurries across the stage with her handheld thrummer (he still doesn’t know the right word for that thing with the stick) and takes her place at his side. But there’s no smile, her face is flushed, and she’s barely even dancing. This is _weird_. He nudges her shoulder lightly, causing her to look up at him, almost stunning him with the thin layer of moisture on her eyes. She looks _miserable_ , actually. Jughead almost stops playing to put his hand on his shoulder, but he’s pretty sure then the rest of the band and crowd would know about her heartbreak. He doesn’t want to humiliate Betty any more than she probably feels she’s doing to herself right now, singing backup to whatever’s brewing between Archie and the universe, let alone her best friend. So instead he steps slightly in front her, angling is bass so he can knock her gently with his hip. Surprised, her eyes light up. She’s not smiling yet, but she does seem grateful to be hidden, if just a little bit. It’s so weird, to be shielding Betty Cooper from the gaze of the crowd he’s avoiding himself. So he distracts himself by trying to make her smile, occasionally moving his foot between hers, biting his lips and pretending to play _really_ hard. He’s graced with a chuckle, and she glances at him again gratefully.

_Thank you_ , she seems to say.

He smiles back.

_You got it Betts._

* * *

 

The after-party is loud, much louder than he’d really like. “Come on, it’s a way to interact with our fans,” Archie insisted, but really his eyes were on the backside of Valerie, who was slowly disappearing behind the backstage curtain. The redhead slid his shirt up to wipe his face, revealing his abs to a few would-be fans on the ground level.

That had been that as far as discussion went, with Jason toweling off his sweaty face before being peppered with water bottle offers from Polly.

“Is it like a jock thing to sweat all over the place?” Jughead asks, shaking his head, bewildered, at Betty.

She throws him a wry half-smile. “You don’t smell so fresh yourself.” At his wide, surprised stare, she laughs. “Don’t worry, none of us do. They’re just more visual about it. Here, I have a wipe or something,” she sighs, grabbing her backstage bag and offering him a wet-wipe of sorts.

“Uh, thanks?” He holds the sopping wet wipe in his hands with the same disdain he does with babies not related to him.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement. “Do you…not know what to do with a cleansing wipe?”

“No, I just—No,” he finishes lamely. It feels like he should wipe his butt with it, not his face.

She snags one for herself, dropping her bag and opening it fully to demonstrate. “Like this, just get anywhere you think sweat may be collecting.” From the back of her ears (who does that), Betty drags the wipe down her neck through her cleavage, under her bra line (his throat going dry, feeling like he’s watching something way too intimate, even if her shirt covers absolutely everything), to under her arms. To his surprise, she even tucks it in the back of her shorts for a second. When she’s done, she looks up expectantly, balling the used wipe in her hand. “You haven’t moved.”

“I…know that.”

Laughing, she shakes her head. “Weirdo.” It’s affectionate, fond even, and he finds himself swallowing against the desire to…what? Lick her? That’s what dogs do to things they like. Her eyes flicker to the wipe. “Do you not want to use it?”

“N—no, I do. Since I apparently smell terrible and my bandmate keeps a slew of them in her bag like a hygienic Mary Poppins,” he teases. She blinks, scrunching her nose in response, so he buries his face in the wipe to prevent anything from coming out of his mouth. It’s cooling. Actually, it smells kind of like vanilla, but not in the same sweet way Betty does. Cleaner. More sanitary. Less inviting, but fine. He swipes the back of his neck, his back, arm pits, and chest.

“Get your butt,” she gestures. At his faux-scandalized glare, she insists, “A lot of sweat pools over there! I’m not kidding!”

“Not all of us are shaking it as hard as you are out there,” he rolls his eyes, obliging one quick swipe against where his jeans meet his tailbone. "Anywhere else, madam?" It’s too embarrassing to get his butt crack while she’s standing right there. But wait— “Betty Cooper, did you just wipe your butt in front of me?”

Her mouth opens at his a scandalized grin, swatting him with the back of her palm. “I did _not_!”

The impact makes him feel like they’re _really_ friends. “You did! You totally did! Betty Cooper, what would your mother say?”

“You’re incorrigible,” she rolls her eyes, snatching his wipe from him and balling it up with hers. For a second he wonders if he should be weirded out, their sweat mingling like that in her hands. It makes his throat go dry, but that could just be from the performance. She tosses the wipes into the trash, and he watches her ponytail bounce as they make their way down the stairs. 

* * *

 

The compliments aren’t really a big surprise. Archie’s got a lot of friends and a lot of muscles. They did a good job out there. Polly’s already stirring in the corner, watching Jason laugh with his friends. Veronica’s drinking something from a solo cup, regaling Kevin with how _powerful_ she felt up there, wiggling together slowly on the dance floor. Betty’s pretty sure Veronica has to be powerful in whatever she does, it’s in the Lodge blood or something. Shaking her head, she wrings out her ponytail and looks around the party. She’s not in the mood to lurk with Polly, wondering if (when) Jason is going to talk to another girl. She’s sort of danced-out from the performance, her calves still aching from the consistent snap of the beat. A beanie catches her attention, and she moves forward to follow it through the crowd.

“Juggie!”

He turns, surprised, eyes swirling in something like recognition. She makes a face at him. It’s not like he should be _shocked_ to see her at the party. “What are we doing?” she asks, wanting to loop her arm in his, but resisting the urge. All the adrenaline from the performance is slowly winding down around her, and she just wants to lean or sit or drink water for five years.

“I was just exploring the house,” he half-shrugs, looking around almost apologetically. “Parties aren’t really my _thing_.”

“I guess we better get used to it.” The thought exhausts and exhilarates her. After-parties on top of the hour-long set or more? How did actual _bands_ do this? They only had a 20 minute set and she still felt like she needed an ice bath.

“You wanna sit down somewhere?” he asks, fingers hovering just at her waist, ready to catch her.

“Yeah,” she nods, her fingers finding his instinctively. It’s the way Veronica, Kevin, and her have always kept each other close during parties. But this is _Jughead_. He probably doesn't care if or when he loses her in the crowd.  She takes in a sharp breath, ready to pull away.

If it bothers him, he doesn’t say anything, and leads her to one of the back rooms. Some of them are already _occupied_ , although it is early. “How did they even have _time_?” Betty asks aloud, half to herself. Between cheerleading, school, and the band, it was all she could do to keep her head above water. Jughead throws a smirk back at her, and she finds herself flushing. Does Jughead even think about that stuff? Or does he find her naive? The boy always has his nose in a book or his laptop when they’re at school. Lately he’s been sitting with them at lunch though. She’s noticed he’ll occasionally steal a chip out of her bag, shooting a wink like a secret passed between them. They’re besties, right? Or…something. She buries the indefinable scribble of confused warmth that starts brewing in her abdomen, grateful when Jughead leads them to a couch.

They collapse in tandem, Jughead still playing with her fingers, making her flush and wonder if maybe he doesn’t despise human contact as much as she thought. He seems a little lost in thought, rubbing her fingers between his to calm himself down from the overstimulation of the party.

“You okay?” she asks in his ear.

Flinching, he drops her fingers. “Yeah. Just…a lot going on.”

She shifts on the couch to face him, propping her elbow up. “Tell me about it.”

It’s something small, like embarrassment and desire flittering across his face. Betty knows she’s the worst liar, not always the best reader of people (she thought _Archie_ was interested in her, of all people), but she has the urge to dig deeper with Jughead. Maybe because he’s been kept from her for so long. He was always _Archie’s_ best friend. Not hers. But now things are shifting, and she really wants to be there for him.

“It’s just…it’s kind of hard being around drunk people most of the time,” he admits to his lap, shifting into something close to self-deprecation. “My dad, you know, he likes the liquor.”

Carefully, Betty’s eyes follow his hands as they shift back to playing with the button of his overshirt. Testing, she reaches out and rubs the top of his hand in a way she hopes is comforting. “It’s okay, Jughead. You don’t have to be around anything you don’t want to,” she tells him earnestly, and the little pain and appreciation she sees reflected back at her make her heart surge with something like love. Not pity, sympathy, or anything like that. She just honestly wants him to feel _comfortable,_ and so often the self-proclaimed outsider just _didn’t_ get there for whatever reason.

“Betty!” Veronica squeals, hopping onto the couch next to her, forcing a gasping Betty against Jughead’s lap. “We did _amazing_ , girl!”

Even the hairs on Jughead’s knuckles ripple with anxiety, so Betty tries to give him some space, shifting so she’s sitting in Veronica’s lap instead. “V, _you_ were amazing,” she smiles, letting Veronica’s arms squeeze her tight against her chest.

“Oh, I could do this _every_ night! Well maybe not _every_ night, but like, seriously. We could be famous, like, Riverdale famous!”

Jughead snorts. “It doesn’t take much. I think the diner is still the highlight of town.”

Ever-optimistic, Veronica plows ahead. “Kevin said he’ll be our band manager. He wants to do promotional videos, like make us go viral and stuff with our covers. Archie’s originals are mostly a dud. What do you think, B? You okay with getting some promotional footage?” The brunette rolls the blonde in her lap, making her feet smack into Jughead’s knees. Betty almost apologizes, but Jughead seems distracted by the guys in the room hollering at the girl-on-girl action going on next to him.

“I mean, yeah. Yes. What do you think, Jug?” she asks, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fine,” he breathes sharply, rubbing his forehead. “I think I need to get some air.” He stands so abruptly that it creates a breeze, and Veronica slides Betty back so her butt is back on the couch, legs draped over her friend.

“So. I’m thinking something sexy for our next show. How much lingerie do you have?”

Betty has to actually sit and process the question for a few extra seconds before she has the capacity to respond.

The party whirls by, some people joining them on the couch, and Veronica eventually coercing her into dancing just a little more, their hands up in victory. Kevin joins in, already recording faux-interviews on the dance floor before retreating to dance flirtatiously next to a bashful Moose.

“Seems like _somebody’s_ having fun,” Veronica giggles into Betty's ear, but she's not facing Kevin.

Archie's hands are gripping Valerie’s hip bone, their forehead’s dangerously close to touching, swaying together to the beat. She's beautiful. Talented. It's not shocking he's into her, it's just...startling to see them  _together._  Betty's never really seen Archie with a girl, at least not like _that._ So intimate, without the teasing of the band to play off of. At Betty’s blank, startled face, Veronica pulls back, hand immediately comforting on her arm.

“Oh! Betty, I’m sorry, I thought you were over that.”

“I am,” she nods, ponytail flicking against her neck, but it’s still hard to look away. Still hard not to feel embarrassed for having reached out to him at all. Instead, she turns her back on the boy next door and tries to make it through another song.

Eventually, Betty gets a little light-headed, maybe dehydrated, and stumbles to the exit.

The fresh air is welcome, and she feels the world steady around her just a little bit. Something about the back of button-down shirt catches her eye, and she notes that Jughead is mounting his motorcycle, slowly turning his helmet over in his hands.

“Jug!” she calls, tongue feeling a little thick. He pauses, head turning over his shoulder, but doesn’t say anything. “Wait,” she mumbles, walking with as much purpose as she can, because running doesn’t seem like a great idea. He waits expectantly without much emotion on his face. “I’m sorry for knocking into you back there. I know you’re not the biggest fan of human touch,” Betty sighs, wiping her sweaty palms on her shorts. “But you don’t have to _leave_.”

His dark hair falls into his eyes as he turns away. “You’re fine. This…it’s just not my scene.”

“It’s not?” she asks, somewhat torn between hopeful and curious. She probably can’t take another rejection, but it’s not too much to feel like they’re at least get closer, right?

He takes a deep sigh, and Betty wants to smooth away the curl on his wrinkled forehead. “I just…I’m going to back to the garage, where there’s less noise, less of _this_ ,” he gestures haphazardly.

He doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t…have a home, really, she realizes.

“Jug?” she asks quietly, biting her lip.

“Yeah?”

“Did…is it okay, then, that I touched you? That I do touch you on occasion?”

For a minute she’s afraid it sounded too sexual, and takes a short breath, holding it in until he responds. Heck, she’s twisting her foot into the dirt like a typical teenager. Another boy she’s coming too strong on. And her best friend, to boot.

“Yeah,” his reply is guttural, exhausted, and maybe a little relieved, she thinks. When’s the last time someone has asked him that? Savoring the moment, Betty sits behind him on the bike, legs both facing the party. At first just her shoulder leans against his back, adjusting to the heat he radiates. Boys always run so _hot_. Even Archie runs hot. But Jughead is a little leaner, a little softer, and she feels like touching him is touching something intimate. Tracing a rib. A heart. Her right arm slides back, wrapping around his waist until her cheek is against his back. She feels him shudder a sigh, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her cheek. Her eyes droop closed, and she lets herself inhale the scent of this boy mixed with the brisk fall air.

Everything feels warm inside of her, swirling like apple cider at the fall fair. She shifts, her other hand tentatively reaching for the curls she saw at his neck.

“Betts?” he asks, throat somewhat raw.

“Yeah?”

She waits a few seconds in silence before opening her eyes, only to find Polly staring at them expectantly, phone out in her hand as if she's about to dial someone. Startled out of their intimate moment, Betty's heels scuttle against the driveway to sit up higher.

“Polly, what do you want?” she asks, surprised at her own tenacity.

With raised, slightly judgmental eyebrows, Polly crosses her arms. “I was going to see if you could get a ride with Archie. It seems that maybe you’ve found a ride elsewhere…although I think Mom would have a heart attack if you rolled home on a motorcycle.”

Anxiety bubbling up her throat, Betty shakes her head, absently rubbing Jughead’s back. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll find my own way home, Polly.”

Narrowing her gaze, Polly’s gaze shifts from the stiff, terrified boy on the motorcycle to her sweet blonde sister. She only spots one helmet. “Actually, I’m feeling kind of sick. Would you be willing to ride home with me and Jason?” It’s not really a question.

A little bit of air deflates out of Betty. “Oh. Of course. I—bye, Jug,” she mumbles, sorry to leave his heat behind. “Get home safe.” Her fingers linger on his back, and she feels him wasp something along the lines of a goodbye, barely able to look her way. Maybe it was too much, the hug, but the way his shoulders relaxed into her makes her think…maybe not. Maybe it was exactly what they both needed.

The car ride home is mostly quiet, but Polly glances back at Betty enough to make her uncomfortable. When they get home, their parents are thankfully still at the Register or Riverwalk, so there’s nothing to stop Polly from demanding, “What exactly is going on with you and Jughead?”

“What do you mean?” she asks nervously, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.

“You seemed awfully cozy at the end of the party.”

“I was just tired.” Her shrug is a little off, and Betty isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince Polly or herself. “But truth be told, he’s really been there for me a lot lately. I feel like…we’re getting closer.”

Polly’s bag folds on the table with a disappointed thud. “Your face. You’re _smiling_. It’s obvious you like him more than you’re letting on.” Betty bites her lip to prevent the blush from overtaking her entire torso. “Well Betty, do you think he feels the same way about you?”

“Y—yeah,” she says, furrowing her brow. The thought hasn’t fully occurred to her that he _doesn’t_ like her.

“He could just be using you for food,” Polly sighs, rolling her eyes.

Amazed, Betty lets out a laugh. “If he wanted to use me for food, there are easier ways of doing it. Like, just _asking_.”

“The boy is starved for attention. I mean, liking Archie is one thing. But Jughead? His whole family basically abandoned him. I just don’t want you to get invested in someone who won’t get invested in you,” Polly shrugs, grabbing a plate for dinner.

Something indignant seems to be blocking her windpipe, making it hard to fully form words and arguments. “Like Archie, you mean?” Polly remains quiet, and the sympathetic look on her face makes Betty want to run to the other room and puke. A flush runs through her again. “They’re my best friends, Polly. They care about me. Whether it’s as—“ her hand flounders in the air, unable to say it, “Or not. And I’m going to love and support them as needed. And Jug—he needs me.”

“Like Archie needs you in the band?” Polly clarifies, popping a grape in her mouth. “Like Jason needed me? See what doing everything for THEM gets you? Jason never _really_ started paying attention to me until I did my own thing. And now that I'm being attentive again he gives the sexy solos to Veronica. I just…I don’t think they’re right for you, Betty. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Yeah, well…” Betty sniffs, already feeling humiliated. “Neither do I.” Angrily swiping her eyes, Betty turns to go upstairs.

“Wait, what about dinner?”

“Don’t want you think I’m just _using you for food_ ,” Betty snaps, slamming the door behind her. Her sister didn’t even say anything _that_ mean or untrue. But regardless, her self control is unraveling and tears flow unbidden down her cheeks. Her stomach trembles, and this time it’s not from anticipation.

Her fingers hastily find her phone, needing anything but her palms to focus on, and she texts Veronica.

 

B: I think Jughead likes me. Am I totally insane? DX

 

V: Not at all! You’re amazing. Of course he likes you ;)

 

B: but…like as a friend or as more…?

 

V: oh gee, B, I dunno. I don’t think Jughead likes people that way. Hasn’t he always said his ideal date is with a hamburger? :/

V: do u want me to feel out Archie to see if he knows anything?

 

B: god, no. nevermind. forget it. obv. jug has a preference for calories to dates, and that’s just fine. he can have his hamburger and eat it too

 

V: we’ve got milkshakes, bringin’ all the boys to the yard ;P

 

B: calm down

 

V: NEVER. We’re going shopping for new show clothes. Remember what I said about sexy underwear. We're bound to have a wardrobe malfunction one day and I'd rather have it be while I'm wearing something hot.

* * *

 

Songs in this chapter:

Brother, Oh, Brother by  Måns Zelmerlöw

 

_I've been there_

_I thought she was the one_

_Until I realized that she was gone, ooooo_

_Beauty can't describe_

_The way she looked_

_I was a fool, for love_

 

_Please don't make the same_

_Mistakes I did, don't let her win_

_Don't give in_

 

_Believe me Brother oh Brother_

_She will break your heart_

_Leave her tonight, be strong_

_Cause Brother oh Brother_

_She's gonna tare you apart_

_Don't stay and fight_

 

_Cause she will have some fun_

_And then she'll run away_

_With someone else_

_Believe me Brother oh Brother_

_She's gonna break your heart_

_Listen to me, I'm setting you free_

 

_After me she had a millionaire_

_Who bought her trips to London and Paris, ooooo_

_First I tried to win her back, but no_

_What could I do, oh she said:_

_You are sweet but it was just a game_

_I thought you knew, well now I do_

 

_Believe me Brother oh Brother_

_She will break your heart_

_Leave her tonight, be strong_

_Cause Brother oh Brother_

_She's gonna tare you apart_

_Don't stay and fight_

 

_Cause she will have some fun_

_And then she'll run away_

_With someone else_

_Believe me Brother oh Brother_

_She's gonna break your heart_

_Listen to me, I'm setting you free_

 

_(Aaahh...)_

_She wants to feel your heart's desire, ooooo_

_(Aaahh...)_

_But all she is, is a heart break liar_

 

_Believe me Brother oh Brother_

_She will break your heart_

_Leave her tonight, be strong_

_Cause Brother oh Brother_

_She's gonna tare you apart_

_Don't stay and fight_

 

_Cause she will have some fun_

_And then she'll run away_

_With someone else_

_Believe me Brother oh Brother_

_She's gonna break your heart_

_Listen to me, I'm setting you free_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, short but sweet. Please let me know what you think!


	3. Footloose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band gets a minor set for the "Blast the Past" Homecoming dance. Jughead grapples with the watchful eye of Betty's friends and the idea that he could have some secret admirers. Musicals are watched. Dancing is had. And Betty tries to break out of the boxes everyone keeps trying to put her in.

“This band thing is starting to feel more like homework every day,” Jughead whines, letting his head roll back against the couch.

“Well, consider yourself _schooled_ because I found the perfect musical to inspire you,” Betty brags, ponytail swaying as she settles the laptop on the coffee table in front of them. Alice probably would’ve had a heart attack if she suggested they watch it in her room, door open or not.

“If there is any form of John Travolta in drag…”

“No,” she laughs, skidding to and from the kitchen. “Here,” she insists, shoving a bowl of popcorn into his lap. “This should keep you happy.” His eyebrows raise, and he watches her a little carefully, drawing the food to his mouth. Keep him happy?

“So what is it? Pre-drag Travolta? I’ve always pictured you as a Grease girl. You have Sandy written all over you.”

“No, but I do appreciate a guy in leather,” she says, an odd expression flitting over her face. He wonders if it’s desire or snark, neither of which he’s fully identified on _her_ face. Longing, sure. He’s seen that one around Archie. But the offhand comment gives him pause. Why is she telling _him_ this? Maybe she kinda liked the motorcycle vibe from the other day. Or maybe he’s become the new Kevin. A nonthreatening best friend she can talk to about hot guys and snuggle with. The thought makes him inwardly groan. It’s bad enough when Archie’s ragging on about someone. He decides not to bring up his own protective leather jacket he wears during motorcycle trips with his dad or his buddies. None of it matters, anyway. Although he does make a mental note not to bring her to the drive-in, because heaven knows she’ll find a lot to be excited about there.

“Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog?” Jughead reads aloud, puzzled.

She glances at his hand in the bowl, carefully scooping her own fistful without grazing him, even as the buttered kernels shift around them. “It’s written by Joss Whedon. You’re going to love it.”

Admittedly, he has liked Whedon’s work in the past. The musical episode of Buffy wasn’t bad. It starts with Neil Patrick Harris, an unlikely lead, and an even unlikelier evil mastermind. Jughead chuckles amidst a fistful of popcorn at his weird attempts to address his “fans.” It’s a humorous monologue. Unusual for a musical. But then Dr. Horrible says something that catches his attention.

“Who is ‘her’ and does she even know that you’re…”

The movie cuts to a peppy song, Dr. Horrible crooning dismally to an upbeat love tune about washing his clothes every day just to be around this sweet girl he barely knows. Her name is Penny, and she’s mostly oblivious to it, too sweet for words. Jughead tilts his head, intrigued not only by the humor of the musical but Betty’s very poignant choice for him. Feeling his studious gaze, she glances over. He stares her down for a couple of seconds, waiting for some kind of admission, but she just squints a little as if to tease him and turns back to the screen.

“I told you you’d like it.”

She’s not wrong.

They settle closer together on the couch, and Jughead finds himself smiling _way_ more than he ever anticipated during a musical. Betty laughs, her head lightly touching his shoulder. Shaking his head, Jughead crosses his leg over his knee, occasionally jostling her with his foot.

“Stoooop,” she fake-moans, pushing it away. He chuckles, purposefully shoving his foot further against her. They jostle amicably for a little longer, her fist resting on his chest in between shoves, and it takes a considerable force in him not to hold it there. Eventually, she stills, shushing him so they can enjoy the song “A Man’s Gotta Do,” some macho hero shoving Penny aside and pretending he’s saved the day. Betty sings all the parts she can, her mouth pursing hilariously small to get the right notes, her face contorting to a strong brow when she sings the deeper parts. Part of him wants to laugh, impressed, and the other part is absolutely traumatized at her trying _so_ hard and her utter weirdness.

Afterwards, she beams at him, waiting for a response.

“You, Betty Cooper, are a total weirdo.”

“Take one to know one,” she chides, jostling against his ribs with an elbow before snaking over and grabbing a kernel of popcorn. A chuckle does erupt from him then, and it feels hoarse, even in his throat, because there’s this sort of _Oh no_ reverberating through him. He’d pretty sure he likes her. _Likes_ her, in a _do my laundry extra and play stupid dance games all the time for her_ kinda way. He’s pretty sure that’s what this sweaty-palm, stupidly anxious in her presence thing is. He could blame the popcorn, but it’s never had this effect when he eats it with Archie. Jug’s not just _okay_ with Betty touching him…he actively craves it. He wants to listen to her sing stupid songs, watch her suck the salt from her fingers, and hell maybe he’s even want to do some of the sucking himself.

“Oh geez,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. Betty Cooper congratulates herself with a smile.

* * *

 

“So what did we learn during musical week?” Veronica asks, lifting coffee to her lips, eyeing the circle of bandmates.

“Betty’s face is scary-flexible and makes sounds no human should make,” Jughead offers. He successfully resists mentioning anything about pining. Archie snorts, and he realizes his friend is probably making an innuendo in his head.

“Jughead,” Betty scolds, slapping his leg from her spot on the floor. Veronica and Polly quirk eyebrows in their direction, but make no comment.

Jug had tried to get Archie into Repo! The Genetic Opera, but apparently he wasn’t much for the indie gruesomeness and had fallen asleep. It didn’t stop Jughead from arguing that breathing could be considered part of the lyrics of an original song.

Readjusting in his seat, Archie clears his throat and addresses the group. “Val, Jason, Polly, and I watched Footloose. I guess footwork and soul really helps?”

“Music is freedom,” Jason intercedes naturally, as if he hasn’t made a sweeping dramatic statement. Blossoms tend to leave a wake wherever they go, so it's probably second nature to him. “We can save this town if we can just figure out how to bring them together.”

Betty’s brows snap together, confused. “Save the town? This is _Riverdale_. Nothing bad ever happens here.”

“No, nothing bad is _supposed_ to happen here,” Jason insists darkly, Polly’s hand immediately going to his to soothe his mood. Exasperated, Betty turns to Veronica. She shrugs like, “Can’t argue with crazy.”

“Okay,” Veronica intercedes, smoothing her skirt. “Well, Kevin, Betty, and I watched Rent. _I_ think we can all agree our aesthetic is important, but so is standing up for what we believe in, right? So what kind of songs do we want to use for Homecoming? Something angry? Sexy?”

“Something people can dance to,” Betty smiles brightly. “And sing to. Even if it’s embarrassing,” she glances pointedly at Jughead, who rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Archie smirks at the suggestion, leaning back. “Besides, the theme is Blast from the Past, so maybe something retro that everyone knows?”

“Okay,” Veronica nods, considering. “Any suggestions?”

“I agree it needs to be something recognizable,” Polly says calmly, rubbing Jason’s palms between her own. “But not something everyone’s expecting.”

“So, no _Thriller_ or _Johnny Be Good_ from Back to the Future?” Veronica clarifies.

Polly nods, looking serene. Sometimes the Coopers give off the impression of being _too_ perfect, if that’s a thing.

Eventually, they settle on the title song from Footloose, figuring even Reggie would dance to it. Besides, things with pre-set dances seem to be popular.

“Is this a thing now? Are we a _line dancing_ band?” Jughead moans, letting his base fall into his lap.

“It’s not that hard, Jug” Betty chides. “I can show you. Bring your cowboy boots.”

“My _what_?”

To Jughead’s bewilderment, both Veronica and Archie burst into laughter. Used to being the butt of the joke, he frowns and steps back into the shadows of the garage. Betty narrows her gaze on him.

“Wait, Jughead—have you never seen Footloose?”

“My library is extensive, but no. I have _somehow_ avoided the pride and joy of a small southern town where they’ve forbidden dancing.”

“It’s probably his version of heaven,” Jason remarks casually, leaning back against his stool. Jughead isn’t terribly offended by the insinuation since he doesn’t consider dancing a real skill, and certainly not one he possesses. Polly eyes Betty and Jughead warily, although why, he's not entirely sure. Having two left feet isn't  _contagious_.

“It’s—it’s fine.” Betty covers. “You’re not missing much.”

“Um, excuse you?” Veronica gasps, hand to her chest in faux-offense. “Except a sensually charged warehouse scene and Kevin Bacon!”

The appeal is _almost_ lost on him. “Wow. How could I resist?”

And thus, he is roped into watching yet another musical in the Cooper living room. Of course Veronica and Kevin get in on the action because they didn’t watch it last week.

He waits to see the way the couch situation unfolds. Does he sit next to Betty? Or is that place reserved for Kevin and Veronica, her de facto hallway buddies? He hasn’t quite figured out a way to get in on that action. It’s weird enough walking next to one person. Adding a fourth would just block the entire hall, and he’s already slammed into by the jocks enough as it is. Technically, Jason acknowledges him as a human being now, but it’s dubious whether that means he _respects_ him as something more than a backup bass player.

Veronica and Kevin slide right next to each other in the center of the couch, leaving room on either end. Of course. Jughead rolls his eyes and makes his way to a side chair. At least he’ll have a footstool and his own snack bowl.

“You know you _could_ sit here, Jughead,” Veronica offers. “Next to me or Kevin.”

“That’s okay,” he sighs. “I’m not much for touching people.”

“Right,” Veronica says, exchanging a pointed look with Kevin. Before he can ponder into that too deeply, Betty returns from the kitchen with the fruit and pretzels, ponytail swinging happily behind her.

“Who wants snacks?”

“Need you ask?” Jughead asks, feeling like his voice sounds weirdly husky. It’s the food that does it to him.

Veronica and Kevin exchange another smirk while Betty bites her lip. Is this what KBV nights are like? Silent, dramatic, charged exchanges? If they keep speaking their own private language, he's just going to tune them out and go on his laptop.

The movie is worth a few eye-rolls, but it does have some good dance moves and points to make about dealing with grief and change. He jots down some notes for a novel or song on his laptop, at least getting _some_ use out of an angsty teen in a religious small town. Kevin provides colorful commentary, Betty and Veronica chiming in and snacking.

“Am I missing something, or is this movie severely lacking in spontaneous song syndrome?” he asks, gnawing on a pretzel contemplatively.

“Oh,” Kevin readjusts, as if he is the resident expert, “The actual _musical_ has people singing. For whatever reason, the movie version just has a soundtrack playing behind enthusiastic dance numbers. It’s basically nothing like the Broadway show, but there are like four classic scenes so it did well anyway. It's called _musical realism._ ”

It's entirely possible Kevin just that made that up. Raising his eyebrows as if he pretends to understand, Jughead turns back to the movie.

The resident bad girl comes onscreen, the camera panning her legs. Jughead feels three pairs of eyes hover curiously in his direction.

He cringes, glancing over. “What?”

Leaning forward, Veronica fixes him with a stare that makes him just a little apprehensive, like an interrogation is coming forthwith. “What do you think of her, Jughead?” It looks like Betty is slowly grinding an elbow into the brunette's side, silently pleading her to leave him alone. Veronica pushes back without breaking eye contact with Jug.

Confused, he gestures to the television. “Um, Daisy Duke over here?”

“Yeah. Provide us with some straight guy input. You are straight, right?”

Heat slowly starts to creep up his neck. “ _Yeah_.”

“So what’s your type?” The brunette blinks, each flutter of her eyelashes making him want to sink further into the armchair. 

If there is any _possible_ away out of this horrible conversation, even a giant red eject button, he's ready to take it. “I dunno. I think I take it on a case-by-case basis.”

“So give us a case,” Veronica insists, rubbing a grape between her fingers, teeth ready to bite. “Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“I…don’t have one?” As if he ogles the women in the movies at the drive-in, or the girls in the halls at Riverdale High. It all seems so weird. He likes to think he’s an objective observer, above the draw of a pair of breasts.

Huffing, Veronica crosses her legs. “Come on. I mean, Hillary Duff?”

Turning back to the television, he admits, “Yeah. She’s pretty.”

“But you’re not _attracted_ to her?”

“What’s the difference?” he asks, irritated. “It’s not like I’m going to meet her. Are we going to watch this movie or continue to discuss the merits of actors based on their perceived attractiveness?”

“Attractiveness,” Kevin adds mildly, inspiring an exasperated eye roll.

When Jughead crosses his arms and just stops responding to the inquisition, they finally let it go and start talking amongst themselves. Finally conversation turns back to the movie at hand.

“Have you ever seen anything so testosterone-fueled?” Veronica rolls her eyes, popping another grape in her mouth. “Tractor racing. Like whoever wins is the more attractive option. Talk about a small town.”

Giggling, Betty shifts against her. “I don’t know, V. You’d be surprised what we in the town full of pep do for fun, let alone for some quality nookie.”

“ _Nookie_?” Jughead grins, disbelieving. The warm feeling of smiling at Betty chills quickly when the others seem to note his response on some invisible score card. He diverts his eyes to the floor before turning back to the screen.

“Small towns are slim pickings. My only hope is midnight runs by the river, picking up a closeted outdoors enthusiast,” Kevin sighs. “I’ve never done so much jogging in my life. It’s been great for my calves, and my sex life. But I’m still looking for love.”

“Aw, you need us to find you a sweet thing?” Veronica teases gently, leg nudging his.

Reaching over Veronica to grasp Kevin’s knee, Betty earnestly reassures him, “There’s someone special out there for you, Kev. We just haven’t found them yet. And they will be _so_ lucky to have you, to share any part of you that you’re good enough to give.”

Veronica makes an endeared noise, literally clutching her pearls. “Betty, that was purely inspirational! You two are so cute.”

Looking pleased, Betty smiles, blushing only slightly as Kevin rubs her hand in thanks. It’s a little _too_ sweet, too after-school special for Jughead’s taste, but it’s nice nonetheless. Maybe he shouldn’t brush them off as potential friends, but the weird judge-y vibe of tonight still has him hesitant to call them anything more than bandmates.

“Why don’t _we_ play Hurts So Good?” Veronica muses, feet tapping as the core four of the movie slide into a country bar, excitedly moving their hips.

Suddenly jolting off the edge of the couch, Betty announces, “Oh! Is this it? Jug, pay attention. I think this is where they do the line dancing.”

“Oh boy.” Sarcasm may be his only salvation in this situation. Kevin Bacon spins and yelps loudly before shaking himself on the dance floor. “I’m in trouble if this is the performance I've gotta match. Maybe it’s just the leather jacket,” he comments wryly, watching Betty’s eyes light up from the teasing.

“We’re doing this,” Kevin declares, setting aside his snack bowl and offering a hand to each lady. Veronica politely declines, stating she’ll watch one round first.

“Jug—watch Kevin, okay?” Betty points, taking her friend’s hand and hopping into a dance.

He sighs, shifting in his seat, and pretends to memorize the way Kevin is moving his feet. But his gaze keeps shifting to his partner, the way her lips look a little riper than usual from the salty pretzels. It’s a shame there’s nothing she really needs to lick off her fingers, but the way her tongue occasionally dabs her mouth isn’t bad either.

Shaking his head, Jughead stands, hoping that blood will bypass his crotch and go to his feet instead. Betty and Kevin look at him in surprise. “You wanna try it?”

“Uh, yeah. Just…take me through the steps again? I’m still pretty sure this was all a giant ruse, as there are  _no_ line dances in this movie.”

Embarrassed, Betty flushes. For a second he wonders if this really was a ruse. But for what? His company? The thought buzzes through his abdomen, warming there. The blonde has the audacity to look flustered. “There is a dance, I promise! I just…don’t know where it is.”

“It’s in the Broadway version, the remake, and sort of at the end,” Kevin intercedes.

The two try to help him amidst the movie playing in the background. Jughead can’t help but notice the best friend in Footloose can’t dance either, can’t woo the girl he likes so he punches out the actual guy who asks her to dance. Idiot should’ve just asked her to teach him. Jughead blushes, turning back to Betty’s hand lightly on his hip, her eyes bright with exercise.

“See? They’re discovering the _joy_ of dancing.”

“Or the _joy of playing along_ ,” he teases, and grabs her hand in an attempted spin like the one he saw Kevin pull with Betty a second ago. In no universe did Jughead ever think that swinging a girl around like Kevin Bacon _or_ Kevin Keller would be fun...or even possible. But Betty’s ponytail twirls in front of him, and they both lean back before coming together, a little wobbly but smiling.

“Whoa, we’ve got our next Danny Zuko over here,” Kevin grins, moving to the side and managing to avoid Veronica’s little kicks from the couch.

The music in the scene ends much too quickly, and Jughead is left awkwardly swaying with their hands joined.

“Uh, what do we do now?”

“We can keep dancing,” she smiles, tilting from side to side to keep their momentum going. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, fluttering.

“Nah, that would be weird,” he blushes, already cursing himself, even as he drops her hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Boo!” Surprised, Jughead turns to a frowning Veronica. “Spoilsport,” she huffs, and for the first time he realizes that she was pointing her phone at them. Stiffening, she quickly lowers it to her lap.

His gut clenches in anxiety. “Were you… _recording_ us?”

“No.” Kevin clears his throat, taking his place next to Veronica, before she admits, “Well, okay, yes. Sort of.” Betty looks slightly mortified, which he assumes mirrors his own expression, but he’s leaning more towards being offended. “Kevin is putting together a little promo reel for the band, and I thought it might be fun to get some behind-the-scenes footage.”

“What the hell, Veronica?”

“Fine! I’m sorry! You just…I didn’t think you’d _pose_ for a picture so I thought I had to get a candid. We want at least a few of all of us,” she shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. What if someone like Reggie got a hold of that footage? As if his life isn’t already hard enough without people making fun of him for stomping all over Betty Cooper’s perfect feet in an attempt to diversify and get a scholarship. Because that’s what this is supposed to be right? Earning a better future?

“You do _not_ have permission to just…plaster my face on the internet,” Jughead starts, hand shaking in the air.

Her perfectly drawn eyebrow quirks, as if it’s obvious. “Um, yeah, I do. Remember? You agreed, at the party.”

“What?” he hisses, narrowing his eyes. He’s only been to one party in the last _year_ and…

“On the couch. With Betty and me. I said Kevin wanted footage and asked if it was a good idea. You said yes.”

Dread ripples through him, and his head leans back against his neck. With Betty half in his lap just a second before, they could have asked him to shave his head and he might’ve said yes. Nothing was _processed_ beyond the heart thumping in his chest, the sound of drunks and hollering and dance music. He backtracks, avoiding their gaze. “I didn’t mean of _me_. Nobody wants to see the loner weirdo on Facebook or Instagram.”

“Um, actually, they do,” Veronica starts, just as Betty interrupts with, “You’re not a weirdo.”

The girls glance at each other in confusion before Veronica continues, “I wanted to save this until we were all together…but…” she turns her phone, showing their Instagram page. “You already have some comments.”

“You _used_ my picture?!” Jughead fumes, leaning closer to the screen. It’s another candid, one taken during practice. All it says underneath is “Jughead Jones: Our Resident Broodster Bassist,” but there a lot of likes or hearts or _something_ underneath it. And comments. “Cute!” and heart-eye emojis and “Gay” followed by “I wish.” It’s…startling, to say the least.

“What…who wrote these?” Jughead asks, momentarily thrown off-base.

“We dunno…sassychick28?” Veronica shrugs, making a face at him. “It’s the internet. We have a fanbase.”

Blinking, still stunned, he steps back. People think he’s _cute_. He’s not sure whether it’s exciting or nauseating. Maybe it’s both.

“We’ve only posted general profile pics so far, but it’s gotten a really nice response,” Kevin adds, attempting to be professional. “I’ve been fielding questions all week on when our next performance is.”

“Really?” Betty asks, looking conflicted.

“You didn’t know about this?” Jughead asks.

“No,” she shakes her head, the gesture reminding him of a dog wriggling its head to wick off moisture instead of shaking off anxiety. They all take a collective deep breath.

“Well. Just…don’t post anything of me without my permission, okay?” he asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Fair enough,” Veronica agrees. “We’ll just avoid posting anything _too_ embarrassing. When _you_ look good, _we_ look good,” she reasons, fingers quickly scrolling through some other photos on her phone.

Sighing, he slumps back into the arm chair, feeling out of sorts. Betty hovers nearby with her arms crossed, not sure what to do with herself until Veronica calls to her that she’s blocking the screen. He’s still frazzled.

People _like_ him?

The fluttering in his chest prompts him to open up his laptop, finding the band profile. Scrolling past the faces of his friends, all candid photos except for Kevin's, and he clicks on his own. _54_  likes? And the comments…they’re all…flattering. I mean, besides the obvious gay one, but sexuality always seemed like an absurd attempt to insult someone. Kevin was more put together than him, and probably better with women than Reggie and Jug combined.

Rubbing his mouth, Jughead wonders what this means. Strangers on the internet like them, like _him_ , but does that mean he’s going to be forced to actually interact with these people? What does that mean to him? He’s always wanted to be _apart_ …because inevitably he’ll be left on his own anyways. But maybe, with the band…maybe it’ll mean he can reach more people with his work?

Betty lets out a sigh, meeting Veronica and Kevin’s sympathetic gaze. “Sorry,” Veronica mouths, half-wincing.

The blonde shakes her head, slumping her head on her friend’s shoulder. Even Veronica’s comforting pat on her knee doesn’t really cheer her up. He’s _so_ involved with these comments. The second someone else shows interest…Betty clears her throat. It’s not like she was showing _that_ much interest. She just taught him how to dance, right? She shouldn’t feel humiliated. It’s not like she was _that_ far out there, not like the obvious schoolgirl crush on Archie. They can still be friends. Besides, she thinks to herself, he looks kinda _excited_. And when’s the last time Jughead got excited about anything other than a cheeseburger and fries?

“It’s a good thing,” she mumbles decidedly to Veronica. “I mean…I want all my friends to be happy.”

Biting her lip, Veronica exchanges a glance with Kevin. He shakes his head subtly, turning back to the movie with wide eyes like, “I can’t believe I’m getting drawn into this but I also kinda secretly love it.”

“Um, B, if it’s any consolation…these are the only photos I have of him _smiling._ ”

Perking up, Betty takes a glance at Veronica’s phone to see her and Jughead beaming at one another, some in practice, the others just recently with his hand in hers while they're dancing.

“I’ll send them to you,” Veronica promises, switching screens. At Betty’s slightly forlorn face, Veronica presses a firm kiss to her cheek. “Cheer up, sexy. I’d take you over a cheeseburger any day.”

“What? Did somebody say something about a cheeseburger?” Jughead asks, barely looking up from his laptop.

The three on the couch shake with disbelieving laughter.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Cheryl sighs dramatically, flipping her vibrant red hair over her shoulder. “I assume Jason hasn’t dumped you yet, which means we’ll be going to Homecoming together.”

Polly takes the jab with a surprising amount of grace. “Yes, Cheryl. Jason and I will be going to Homecoming together, and we’d be happy to escort you and your date.”

“Fine,” she glowers, flicking her red nails in the air. “I’ll see you at six o’clock.”

“Cheryl—it’s a big night for Jason, for all of us. We could really use your support,” Polly reminds her gently, shaking a pom, and Betty wonders if she learned this kind of passive-aggressive behavior from their mother. If so, she’s impressed, and tries to hide a grin behind an arm stretch.

Cheryl’s face softens at the mention of her bother. “You’re right. It's JJ’s big night. And…the rest of you. I’ll make sure you have an adequate fan base for the night.”

“Should be fun,” Betty adds absently. “Lots of dancing.”

Cheryl’s eyebrows knit together, offended. “Well, duh, Betty.” Scoffing, she turns and walks off to yell at someone else for imperfect form.

Betty lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “I know you love Jason, but I don’t know how you put up with his sister.”

Her sister’s straight hair falls effortlessly over her shoulder in a shrug. “Cheer season’s almost over, and Cheryl’s been through a lot.” Betty makes a face, prompting Polly to turn the slightly maternal tone on her sister. “I know she’s grating, Betty, but you have to keep in mind that the Blossoms have their own set of Cooper-esque expectations to live up to.”

The Cooper expectation is to look, act, and _be_ perfect. The Blossoms may _look_ perfect, but they definitely lack tact, in Betty's opinion. Cheryl was downright mean, and Jason could be pompous, blunt, and vain, as she’d witnessed through the last six months of his and Polly's on-and-off again relationship. But Polly’s just trying to be nice, so Betty takes a deep breath. “Sorry. You’re right. I should be patient with her. So, you and Jason are going to take his car to Homecoming?”

Polly nods, her perfect jaw primly in place. “Yes, we’re meeting at his house. That way I can stay overnight.” At Betty’s scandalized stare, Polly quickly holds a hand up, “Mom’s already agreed. I’ll be staying in Cheryl’s room.”

“Yeah, right,” Betty giggles, and for a shocking second sees guilt flicker across Polly’s face. “Wait—are you—?”

Shrugging, Polly gets back in formation. “It’s only natural, Betty. I love Jason. Despite our differences, he loves me…and when we’re together…we’re making _love,_ the same way our friends are making music.” It's not _quite_ the same, Betty feels. But still...Polly's so  _happy._ Betty’s concern fades into something akin to sadness, a lonely ache swelling in her chest. Polly must sense it, because she places a comforting hand on Betty’s shoulder. “You’ll see, one day.” The pity in her eyes makes Betty’s stomach lurch, remembering the last humiliating rejection that took place on the football field. “Is there anyone else you have an eye on?”

Before Betty can really respond, Cheryl snaps at her to watch her back leg. “Um, not really, no. I seem to be enjoying my friendships more than anything romantic.” The self-deprecating smile doesn’t quite stick on her face. “And by that, I mean that Veronica, Kevin, and I will be taking V’s car to the dance.”

“No Archie? Jug?” Polly asks, surprised.

“They’re taking the pickup to the dance a little early with the instruments to set them up,” Betty shrugs, starting to walk, as if that will get her away from the truth, even as more words pour out of her mouth. “Apparently Archie’s started something with Val from the Pussycats. They’re…going together, or something.” Polly’s gaze searches her face for sadness, but honestly there’s nothing there except for some minor embarrassment.

"What about Jughead?" she asks, not quite as meanly as Betty might expect.

"He's with Archie," she shrugs, her lips forming a thin line. "And he's not much for dances, anyway. He'll probably leave right after our set."

“Do you…want to go with Jason and I instead?” Polly asks earnestly. “Or do you want me to see if any of the Bulldogs need a last-minute date?”

“ _No!”_ Betty whips around, hoping no one’s even heard _that_. “I…I’m just not in the dating sphere right now.”

“Nonsense,” Polly argues firmly. “You’re dancing with cute boys at Homecoming, and that’s the end of it.”

“If by cute you mean handsome, and by boys you mean Kevin, then yes, I am.”

 

* * *

 

“No, put the amp over there,” Jason directs, pointing to the front corner.

“We’re going to blast their faces off that close to the crowd,” Jug protests.

“That’s the _point_ ,” Jason frowns. “It’s a Homecoming dance. Our audience will extend further than Andrews’ garage.”

Rolling his eyes, Jughead crawls back onto the stage, moving the amp where Jason dictated. Of course Archie would be off schmoozing with Val the second the Blossoms rode into town. The sandy blonde girl moving on the dance floor isn’t the comforting touchstone he’s looking for. Although he’s not much for talking to the lesser redhead, Jughead asks, “Where are the rest of the girls? I thought they would’ve come with you.”

Brow furrowed, Jason re-coils the section of wire Jughead organized ten minutes ago. “Betty and Veronica are riding with Kevin.”

“Yeah,” Jug sighs heavily, nudging the amp with his foot. “They do seem close, those three.”

Jason gives him a funny look, but Jughead’s too embarrassed to ask him why. It’s not just that he’s older, or that he used to bully him. It’s just…Jason Blossom belongs to such an entirely different universe. His parents were leaders of a family-owned business. They have an archery range on their estate. He even gets along with his evil twin sister. His whole life is lined up for him, his whole fortune, and yet he wants to go into _music_  for the sake of finding _freedom._ What, _specifically_ , was Jason Blossom looking for freedom _from_? 

Thankfully he doesn’t have to endure the awkward silence much longer, because he spots the aforementioned trio enter arm-in-arm. He hops down from the stage, sufficiently dismissing himself from Jason’s envoy. He makes his way towards them before stopping, realizing that might be awkward. They’re a _unit_. An impenetrable force. He’s the side arm chair guy. Just as his fingers slick into his suspenders for support, the crowd parts, and he feels her gaze hook into him.

Betty looks shocked for a second, biting back a blush. He smiles shyly, a little proud. It’s the first time he’s really been dressed up in front of her. He shoves his hands in his pockets as she approaches, unable to hide the beam of self-congratulatory glee that she’s singled him out, broken apart from her trio to say hello. Her eyes ream him affectionately. “Jug,” she says softly, proudly.

He shrugs, straightening his tie before stuffing his hands back in his pockets. “This is the best I could do.”  The light giggle that escapes her is like air filling his lungs. Necessary. He basks in her approval for a few seconds longer. “I see you’ve really let your hair down.” Even her dress seems a little less rigid than usual, clinging flatteringly to her waist, flaring out with a slit on the side to make it easier to dance.

“Oh, please,” she shakes her head, nervously touching where her ponytail would normally sit.

“No, it looks nice.” His eyes linger on her face for a little longer than is probably appropriate, so he shifts awkwardly, trying to find a neutral place to rest his eyes. Veronica and Kevin are weaving through the crowd behind her, although he’s pretty sure neither of them have their phones out.

“I know this isn’t exactly your scene,” Betty remarks casually, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“No,” he chuckles, rocking on his feet. He wishes he could do something with his hands besides ball them into his pockets. “The things we do for the band.”

“So…do you think you’ll be up for testing your dance moves later on?” she asks, small smile playing at her lips. “I’d hate to see them go to waste.”

His posture stiffens into an unnatural lean, not sure how to respond other than sarcasm. “I don’t know, my date is pretty much the bass and the buffet, so I think their expectations are pretty low.”

“Right,” she nods, pressing her lips together. There’s a beat between them. “Well, if you need any tips…”

“I know where to find you,” he nods amicably, watching her hesitate before turning, rejoining her group. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her from people who actually _like_ dancing…not to mention they gave her a ride. Taking a deep breath, he glances at the clock. Only ten minutes before their performance.

 

* * *

 

Betty’s shaking so hard before their set that Veronica actively has to hold her hand, smoothing it as if everything is totally normal. Cheryl eyes them irritably before knocking past them to give her brother a kiss good luck, attempting to give a surprised and wary Archie the same. Jughead rolls his eyes, leaning against the stage stairs, and ignoring everyone as best he can.

“Ugh, desperate much?” Veronica asks, side-eyeing the redhead bombshell.

“She—she’s gone through a lot,” Betty tries to breathe, letting her nails press into her other hand.

“Like what? I go through PMS just the same as her, and even I’m not that bad.” She pauses, reconsidering. “Anymore. You’re a good influence, B.” The brunette’s smile is bright, unperturbed as she takes in the gathering crowd through the gap in the curtain.

The thought of being rejected by all of the people out there is too much to handle, and Betty shivers against her friend. “How did you not have a date, V? You’re like…perfect,” she shudders somewhat anxiously, hating herself for not being able to dig deep and find her usual confidence. She’d been pouring over the comments on Jughead’s page. He has _so many_ admirers. Most of the ones who commented on hers saw her as annoyingly perfect. She’s only ever sexy in context of being with Veronica. So how is it possible that even someone as amazing as V didn’t have a date?

Laughing, Veronica turns to her, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “I have the hottest date around! Besides, after Chuck tried to get to second base on our first date, I’d figured you and Kevin were a safer bet,” she winks.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Betty mutters, wincing as her nails puncture her palms.

Sensing her tension, Veronica turns Betty to face her. “Hey. You. Are. Awesome. And besides me and Kevin, who will obviously dance your pants off, you can seduce any guy you want when you're onstage. Understand? The guys we like, a lot of times won’t like us back. So hop back on that horse, B! Flirt a little in the glory of the anonymous crowd,” she encourages, wiggling her hips.

“You wouldn't happen to be able to share some of that loose confidence, would you?” Betty laughs nervously.

“I know just the thing,” Veronica whispers conspiratorially, slinking off to whisper something to Reggie, who hands her a flask. “Bottoms up?” she asks upon her return.

“V! I—“ her resolve melts when she sees Archie wrapping his arm around Val’s waist, Jughead stuffing his face with cake, and Jason and Polly trying to handle Cheryl. “Let’s take the edge off,” she concedes, and takes a big swig. The burning sensation hits her stomach first, rippling back up through her throat. “Oh! That’s liquid courage all right,” she sniffs, shaking it off as Veronica hands her a cup of punch to chase it with. She could do this. Definitely.

 

* * *

 

Everything is going great, Veronica thinks. “Footloose” is a hard, upbeat song, demanding a ton of energy. The crowd seems to love it, dancing along with the band. Archie’s cute, his face scrunched with the effort of pushing all his energy into the song. Polly’s not clinging to Jason like he’s some tortured soul needing saving. Cheryl and her cronies are dancing and recording them from below, most of the redhead’s attention fixed on her brother. He seems intent on putting on a good show for the word of mouth, but he’s talented as always, which is all Veronica really needs to approve. Jughead is Jughead, just kind of strumming in the background, but at least he knows how to move his feet thanks to Betty’s and their attentions from the other night.

As for the golden girl, after a little liquid courage, Betty is dancing with more gusto than she’d anticipated. It’s fun seeing her break loose on the dance floor, hair flying every which way without the usual elastic in the way. Kevin is _loving_ the dance showcase opportunity, especially when Betty flicks her skirt a little daringly high at him. Kevin’s not the only one admiring Betty’s dance moves. Jughead, when he’s not biting his lip and staring at the ground, smiles over at the blonde. It’s enough to make Veronica think he does _like_ her, but it’s lacking the sort of desire she associates with anything more. Of course there are some girls who scream for the boys during the song, making Veronica’s eyes roll. Heck, she might’ve been one of them in another life, eyeing the redheads up front, deciding which one she’d rather try. But now she’s on stage, attracting the admiring and envious glances of her classmates, so she throws a little extra bounce in her step and joins Betty in having the time of her life...or at least this week.

The wave of applause hits them like a tidal wave, and they all stutter back to recover from it, feeling like they’re walking underwater. Breathless, Veronica bows, straightening to look at her bandmates. Everyone’s all grins, clapping each other on the back. The only person whose smile doesn’t reach their eyes is Betty Cooper. Something else lurks there, but she stumbles off the stage before Veronica has a chance to check in.

 

* * *

 

Grundy rushes to Jason and Archie right after the song, eyes glazed with what Jughead is pretty sure is desire.

“You were _amazing_! I mean, just—“ she fans her neck, nervously playing with her long ponytail. The gesture nauseates Jughead. When Betty does it, it’s endearing, but this flirty nonsense coming from a grown woman to his teenage bandmates is just plain gross. He raises an impatient eyebrow, waiting for her to finish. “You boys—the _reaction_ out there,” she half-laughs, hand still poised on her chest. Archie and Jason exchange a glance.

“Yeah?” Archie asks hopefully.

“ _Amazing_. I just—” her hand reaches out, straightening his jacket, eyes quickly coming back up to his face. “I think you could really take advantage of the fact you have such a good-looking group. Do you have any songs that are a little more…sexual? Romantic?” she corrects.

Jughead makes a disgusted noise, but Archie misreads it, responding, “Jug’s not much for the romantic stuff. But we do have a few songs, yeah. There’s one—“

“Do it,” she insists, grabbing his hand, clenching it. “I’ll talk to the board. Just—go up there and _enjoy_ your moment.”

“Should we?” Archie asks, turning to his bandmates. Jason looks a little stiff, annoyed that Grundy seemed to designate Archie as the band leader.

“ _No_ ,” Jughead insists, feeling like the answer is obvious. “We haven’t even worked out the choreography.”

“The girls are smart, they’ll figure it out,” Jason muses aloud, glancing at the adoring crowd contemplatively.

“Well, shouldn’t we _ask_ them?” Jughead tries.

“They have to sing _back-up_ , Jughead. It’s not _rocket science_.”

Jason knocks past him, reminding him of Cheryl with the girls earlier. He motions to his Bulldog buddies, talking easily, Archie bashfully joining right behind to bask in the praise. Is Jughead seriously going to be the only one who _doesn’t_ want to flub onstage?

 

Apparently his fears are unfounded. Or more accurately, he doesn't foresee the right kind of fear that should accompany singing a not-often practiced sexually charged song. By the time they’re halfway through “No You Girls” by Franz Fredinand, his heart rate has punched through the roof. Veronica is sticking to her signature foot-stomping, butt-waggling sexy dancing, but _Betty…_ Betty has gone into a totally other realm from what he’s used to. He’s aware that she probably knows more than swing dancing and Wii moves, but it’s like she’s activated stripper-light mode. Polly’s safely tucked away in the back on an instrument, so he can't even hope that she'll reign in Betty’s enthusiasm. The blonde sophomore slides her fingers upwards through her hair, rotating her hips in a swirling motion. Almost every time a lick is mentioned, that perfect pink tongue encircles her lips, making everything in Jughead tighten, including his air passages. Veronica _encourages_ the flirtation, as does the crowd.

Every time Jason croons, “How the boy _feeeels_ ,” Jughead has to swallow against an impending panic attack. All he has to do is get through this one song, and then they’ll be happily merged with the anonymity of the crowd. Betty’s soft hands caress Jason’s arm, playing into the crowd’s enthusiasm. Veronica does the same to Archie, enjoying the game. It’s innocent but suggestive, and Jughead can’t help but take a few steps back, like he’s watching lions circle each other. Grundy is salivating in the back of the room. But before he can plan out a solid defense against Miss Creep, he notices Betty has switched targets, grinding her hip into Archie’s. The luckiest boy in the world seems breathless, almost missing his cue as Veronica’s hand massages his other shoulder. Abruptly, Archie steps forward and moves to the edge of the stage so neither girl can distract him.

Clearly rejected again, even from play-flirting, Betty visibly stutters. In damage control mode, Veronica grabs her wrist, pulling her close for what they call a “moment,” which is really just dancing together. Betty still seems a little hazy-eyed, and Jughead studies her closer. What’s wrong? She seems… _off_. Catching his gaze, Betty disentangles herself from Veronica and marches over to him, Veronica’s panicked face fading into the background. Sweating profusely, he waits to be devoured by all that is Betty Cooper, hair mussed, makeup perfect, and a look that could kill.

The apprehension must be radiating off of him, because she stops a few feet away, studying him. “What?” he asks with his eyes. With steely-eyed determination, Betty slides onto her knees, unusually direct. Confusion pours through him, watching as her fingers trace her own throat, dragging down her chest as she arches her back in possibly the most sexual thing he’s ever seen. Even the way her hair floats back over her shoulders makes him ache painfully. But his fear is stronger than his desire. Is this _Betty?_ _His_ Betty?

When she sits back up, he’s not even sure if he’s been playing for the last few seconds. She _isn’t_ his, even if her half-glazed eyes are raking every inch of his body. She only came over here because she felt weird about Archie. Flushed, he nods at her, gesturing to the crowd. Seemingly dismayed by his response, she swings her legs to the side and stands up, her skirt swishing behind her, to resume the show. By the time the song is over, Jughead is dehydrated from the sheer amount of sweat clinging to his body.

They get more cheers, more catcalls, and with even more apprehension he notes that Betty is already powering through the crowd, Reggie’s hand at her side as he hollers that she looked _great_ up there.

“Fuck,” he mutters, wiping a hand through his hair. “What was _that_?” he asks Veronica.

“Dancing,” she shrugs irritably. “It’s why we’re here.”

“No, that wasn’t normal Betty,” he argues, finger already pointing. “What _happened_?”

“Nothing! God! You and Archie act like Betty is too pure for a single sexual thought, let alone a dance move. She’s sixteen. She has needs. So she’s gonna get some. Or dance it out. Whatever. She’s her own wo-man!” she points out, jabbing a finger in his chest. “You can’t have your cake and eat her too.”

“What?!”

But Veronica moves past him, leaving his cheeks burning and mouth open as she hums to herself, ready to get back into the crowd. Shoving his hands through his hair again, he isn’t sure he can even eat the rest of the night. Is it possible that the sweet girl next door wants more than just dance dates with her best buds? That she wants…sex?

And if so...from  _him?_ From Archie? Or from nobody in particular?

He swallows, his throat feeling raw and blistered even though he hasn’t sung a single note all night.

“That was great, right?” Archie beams, wiping his face on the back of his arm as he joins him backstage.

“No that was _not_ _great_ ,” Jughead snaps. “I told you we needed more time!”

The redhead flinches, leaning back with his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, hey. Everyone liked it. I mean, I know things got a little weird up there, but—“

“Why the hell didn’t we set some boundaries? That was a complete disaster.”

Confused, Archie glances at the crowd behind them, looking for the girls. “You mean with the dancing? I think they just got too into the song, and I really needed to concentrate. It's not one we've done too often,” Archie chuckles softly, shifting the guitar back on the main stage. 

“No, Archie. Flirting with other girls in front of Betty. Letting Grundy creep all over you. This is _weird_. Since when do we have _fan girls_?”

“It’s not… _bad_ , Jughead.” Archie’s brow furrows, trying to reason everything into something that makes sense in his little world. “People like us. And as for Betty…we’re best friends.”

“Then why did you pull away?” Jughead asks, angry on her behalf for some reason. She was safe in her stupid childhood crush on the boy next door. It was one thing for Archie to turn away on the football field, but another to do it onstage in front of the entire school. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t even _be_ in a situation like this, involving sexy dancing, guitars, and hormones. Part of Jughead is angry that in some ways, he pulled away from her too. What did Veronica mean about having cake and Betty too?

“I don’t know, man. They were both on me, Val’s right in the audience, it just felt weird,” Archie shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. They danced it off in like two seconds, as did I. We had to focus on the song.”

“Yeah. The song.” Jughead closes his eyes, feeling a headache from the pounding noise.

Archie puts a hand on his shoulder, seriously focusing on him for the first time the whole night. It's not as comforting as he would like, but it does help. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just…I need some air.”

Stepping outside is like being kissed hello by frostbite. It’s _cold_. He doesn’t even have the excuse of smoking. Normally the cold doesn’t even bother him, but the temperature combined with his sweat-soaked attire is enough to make him feel like he’s testing out a suit for Mr. Freeze. Some girl from his English class opens the door, following him.

“Um, Jughead?” she asks shyly.

“Yes?” The confused irritation laced through his voice goes unnoticed.

“You…you were really good up there.” Her laugh stutters from the cold, and the sound grates against his nerves. “I didn’t know you played the bass.”

“I’m just chock full of surprises.”

“Cool.” She comes closer, skin reddening almost instantly from the cold. He eyes her warily. Is she stupid or just determined? Her hands rub her arms in the hopes that friction can fight off the chill. “So…did you come here with anyone, or?”

“Yeah. I rode here with Archie. Why?”

“Oh, I dunno,” she blushes, turning away. “Maybe…I thought you’d be able to leave with someone else.”

_Oh_. Jughead registers that someone is actually _flirting_ with him. Although it’s a _little_ exciting, it’s also unwelcome at the moment. He’s still picturing Betty’s tongue on her lips, Veronica telling him he can’t eat cake and Betty too.

“I, uh, I have to go.” Ducking his head, he pulls his beanie tight around his ears.

“Are you guys playing another set?” she asks hopefully as he passes.

“No. I don’t know. Ask Archie.”

He leaves the fan in the cold and heads back inside, deciding that the first thing he has to do is find Betty. He spots her pale pink dress and mussed blonde hair over by the punch bowl. His eyes are drawn to the way her throat moves, bobbing as she swallows. It’s oddly erotic. Fearing he’s become a pervy fanboy, Jughead moves towards her, hoping the close proximity will make him slightly less fascinated with the movement of her throat. His hand finds purchase on her bare shoulder, sending a little jolt of heat to his face, and he leans close to whisper in her ear.

“Hey Betty, can I talk to you?”

“About what?” she asks, tongue swiping her lip to catch any leftover punch. He resists groaning, his hand hovering protectively over her waist.

Well he certainly can’t just come out and ask why she tried to give him a heart attack on stage, so he mumbles, “Um, do you have any more of those butt wipes?” She laughs, hair falling forward, and it sets his nerves at ease, a smirk managing to grace his face.

“Yeah, I have them in my purse. Hang on.”

“I’ll go with you,” he offers, hand finally finding purchase on her waist. It’s warm, comforting. Even after she finds her bag at coat check, his fingers trace the silken material of her dress. Her green eyes meet his with an element of curiosity. Wipe in hand, she offers it to him.

“Thanks,” he swallows, feeling like the sound echoes in the coat check room. She waits as he drags the cool relief across his body, shoving it inside of his shirt to get under his arms. With a pointed smile, he also tucks it briefly into the back of his pants, eliciting another of Betty’s light chuckles. He balls the thing up and by some miracle manages to shoot it into the trash on his first try.

“Nice,” she comments, nodding. Noting his nervousness, she takes her time heading back to the main gym. “So, how are you holding up?”

“Oh, with the people all around, you mean? Um, I’ve only been cornered like twice by fangirls so I’m doing okay.”

Her cheek moves in something like begrudging cheer. “Good for you. How’s the whole touching thing going to fit in there?”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Uh, haven’t thought ahead that far. I’m hoping none of them try to get past the whole, _You were sooo good up there_ hair-twirling phase.”

Her green eyes search his with earnest concern. “You don’t want to date? Or do…whatever it is they call it these days?”

“Get some nookie?” He teases, loving the way her cheeks flush at the mention. “I’ve…been thinking about it more recently. But I’m not sure.” The good-natured friends facade cracks a little, his breath hitching as her gaze flickers painfully to his lips. “It’s hard to imagine having a real relationship, after everything with my mom and dad.”

Betty blinks, looking away. “I don’t think the fangirls are going to be looking for a serious relationship. But, yeah, I think there’s definitely risk in putting yourself out there.” Her hand encircles his wrist, and even though she doesn’t tug on him, he moves closer, close enough he has to look down to see her face. “I’m so sorry about your family, Jug,” she says softly, strangely without pity, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like his chest is being squeezed when someone talks about his family.

“It is what is is,” he mutters, turning his palm upwards to caress her wrist in return. “I, um…I’m sorry about Archie.”

“Why?” she looks up, surprised.

“Because he hurt you,” Jughead reminds her softly.

Betty’s gaze drops, the corners of her mouth along with it. He continues to caress her wrist, the music from the gym gently wafting through the silence. What he would give to swallow her pain, the sting of rejection he was too familiar with.

Her voice is thick, conflicted, when she finally speaks. “I…I’m not upset with Archie.” His eyebrow quirks, surprised. But maybe he shouldn't be. She loved him for so long, it’s only natural she’d find it in her heart to forgive him so fast. “I thought we made _sense_ , so when he rejected me, I had to rethink what really drew me to him.”

“The six pack had nothing to do with it?” What he would give to be able to shut up…

“No,” she smiles. “I’d been thinking about it before then. Archie was my best friend. I could rely on him. When we came back from the summer, I thought I was his confidant, that I was special.”

“You _are_ special,” Jughead insists, his own voice thickening in the process.

Her head shakes gently. “It’s just…nobody really sees me that way,” she says, eyes misting over. Something tugs painfully in Jughead’s chest, and his other hand reaches up to soothe her neck. It’s too intimate, he thinks briefly, and lets his thumb settle on the groove of her collar bone instead. She sniffles gratefully, lost in thought. “It just feels like _every time_ I edge out of this predefined role someone has for me, I get pushed away. It feels like I’m just one step away from saying the wrong thing, moving the wrong way, not providing the right things at any given time.”

“Betty, _any_ side of you is a thousand times better than anyone else’s. You don’t owe it to anyone to stay in some box the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, right. Then why did you look at me that way onstage?” she asks earnestly, tears threatening to spill over. He hesitates, unsure how to answer. “Because you think of me that way too. You want me to be this sad little girl next door who’s secretly in love with Archie, gets straight A’s, and shares junk food, but I’m _not_.”

Instinctively, his thumb presses hard into her collar, as if it'll stop the flow of negative energy to her brain, his other hand encircling her wrist. It’s the first time in a while he’s used a scarily direct voice with anyone he wasn’t defending himself against. But in some ways, defending Betty feels like defending a part of himself. “You’re _so much more than that_ , Betty, if that’s what you are at all." He takes a breath, firmly meeting her gaze. "I was scared. Sometimes weirdos like me have shoved themselves so far into a label that we get caught by surprise when someone tries to break out of it. You should’ve seen my face when Archie said he wanted us to start a _band_. The jock turned rock star? It felt crazy. But it works. The thought of putting myself out there like you did, _terrifies_ me. It actually _terrifies_ me,” he repeats, lowering his face so he can see if he’s really getting through to her. Her green eyes swirl, conflicted, as they flicker from his eyes to his lips. “But you make me want to be brave,” he adds, sighing heavily. Surprised, she jerks her head back. His voice softens, thumb tracing a gentle circle against her collar as his eyes flicker hesitantly back up to hers. “You’re…you’re my _best_ friend. And I haven’t had one of those besides Archie in a while, so to see you so…” he swallows, hesitant, practically feeling his ribcage creak open as he speaks, “ _Vulnerable_ , makes me feel that way too.”

The anxiety in her eyes cools, fading to a dark blue-green, settling somewhere in understanding. He takes a shallow breath, wanting to close the space between them, but scared he’ll totally fall apart no matter which way it goes.

“Thanks, Jug,” she says softly, and to his surprise, she does it for them, wrapping her arms around his lower back and nestling her face against his shoulder in a hug. Everything tingles inside of him, and it takes a full second before he has the state of mind to embrace her back, his fingers taking the opportunity to finally curl into her soft blonde mane. It feels even better than he’s imagined, and the realization that he’s even imagined it makes him cling to her a little tighter.

He knows the fear of having someone reject you for saying or doing the wrong thing. That’s why he’s stayed with Archie and _only_ Archie for _so_ long. He’s quick to forgive, to forget, even when Jughead can’t. Jughead takes everything personally, rejecting things before they can reject him. People just…may never have liked or loved him in the first place. Because he’s not exactly…lovable. Not even by his own mother. His eyes close tightly, and everything else in him tenses, squeezing her until she gasps, pushing against him.

“S—sorry,” he gasps, surprised at his own overwhelming emotions.

“No, don’t be sorry,” she insists, wiping her cheeks. “It was a great…soul-crushing hug.” A small laugh escapes both of them, Jughead still swallowing nervously against the moment of honest vulnerability. Betty glances shyly at the dance floor. She probably wants to get back, to leave him after that weird display of affection. “I know it’s a little loud, but…it seems like they’re playing a slow song. Think you can stand it?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, hands stuffing back in his pockets so they don’t do anything else embarrassing. To his surprise, she knots her arm around his, leading him not to the buffet table but the dance floor. “You want to dance with me?”

She takes his surprise as a request, smiling kindly at him. “Why Jughead Jones, I thought that was obvious.”

His panic subsides quicker than expected, settling into something like appreciation that she’d even _want_ to dance with him. His chin jerks to the side, trying to take in the slowly swaying bodies on the floor. “I, uh, I’m not really sure _how…_ ”

“We’ll wing it,” she shrugs, turning to stand in front of him. He takes one last sweeping glance around the floor in the hopes he’ll get a hint. The distant, weird posture of Ethel and her date with one hand out to the side seems complicated. Even Archie’s hands on Valerie’s hips seems a little too sexual for the moment. Veronica and Kevin are swaying, singing softly to the song, chatting amicably the whole time with his hands on her waist and her arms around his neck. It’s close, but not… _quite_. Before he can look around more, Betty’s soft gaze draws him back, and his hands instinctively go just above her hips, sliding around her back just a tad so they’s almost hugging. Grinning, she lets her fingers splay on his shoulders, just the tips grazing his neck. “Is this too much?” she asks seriously, tilting her head back so she can actually look at him.

“N—no,” he swallows, feeling hypnotized by her green eyes. “I’m being brave, remember?” Suddenly it feels like a balloon is inflating in his chest, cracking his ribs open to expose himself. “Is it too much for you?” he asks, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. She shakes her head, and he has to glance away just so he doesn’t lean down and try to taste her in relief.

The rocking of bodies seems so simple. Just a three step kinda shuffle, if that’s what it is. He’s not counting, just moving, enjoying the feel of her skirt brushing against his thigh, the warmth of being half-embraced.

“We should learn this song,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

Amused, she nods.

“Do people talk when they dance like this?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

“Sometimes. When they’re not feeling each other up.” That makes him snicker, his nerves dissolving. Slipping into easy conversation, she looks over her shoulder to smile at her friends. She’d probably be sad if she knew he still thought of them as _her_ friends. “I was lucky I often had Kevin as my date. He was usually busy _being_ felt up in the men’s room when we weren’t dancing, so I’d just go off somewhere until he was done, so there was no risk of getting ass-grabbed by some random guy.”

“But Betty, I thought you were a _risk-taker_.”

Her eyebrows raise at his tease, a wry smile gracing her lips. He feels pride surge in his chest that he put it there. “Well, maybe I am… _now_.”

The balloon in his chest swells again, making him take in a deep breath. “God bless Veronica Lodge.”

Her laughter swells over the lyrics. _Don’t let me let you goooo._ He doesn’t want to, not even when the chorus swings back in and he notices Kevin point his phone at them. Caught, Kevin grins, and slowly leads Veronica over to the dancing pair. Betty turns at their arrival, smiling.

“Hey guys.”

“Hi Betty,” Kevin says a little smugly. “Absconding with my date, Jones?”

“It looks like you had one to spare,” he shrugs, confident, but leaning away from Betty a little, just in case this _is_ weird.

“Thought you didn’t like _touching._ ” Veronica points to where Jughead and Betty’s bodies meet. It’s more places than he realized, and yet still less than he’d like.

“I’m trying something new.”

Kevin’s grin shifts to a little bit shit-eating. “With Betty?”

“Yes. With Betty. Don’t be getting handsy with me, Keller.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he chimes brightly, gaze slipping over affectionately to Betty.

Clearing her throat, Betty changes the subject. “Jughead was just saying that we should learn this song.”

“Here’s to the Night?” Veronica frowns. “Kinda _romantic_ , don’t you think?”

“And?” Betty asks.

“I thought you didn’t _do_ romance, Jug. Or ballads.” The brunette seems intent on grilling him. It’s like a pre-test to Betty’s Dad or something. He takes a deep breath, trying not to say anything particularly snarky.

“Well, whatever makes the ladies happy,” he squints, his smile just enough of a warning that Veronica simmers in his general direction.

“Well, seeing our resident bad boy in formal wear seems to have inspired a lot of lady love,” Veronica shrugs, eyeing Betty carefully, whose grip on Jughead tightens significantly. “Guess we’ll have to see what wardrobe we can work with for the next show.”

The conversation drifts into more casual territory, Jughead encircling Betty, but the pairs still shift near each other in almost-dancing. He’d be annoyed, but having Betty’s fingers absently stroke his neck lets him relax. As the song dies down, her fingers even scratch just the very tip of where his hair meet his beanie, and an indefinable urge to have her dig through his well-concealed hair makes him shiver. His eyes snap closed, so he’s not sure if she notices his gasp. But then the next song is fast, and his eyes snap open to the couples around them splitting apart.

“You okay, Jug? You wanna sit down?” Betty asks, fingers still absently playing with his hair. "Get some food?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

He’s awful at the faster dances. There are no moves to copy, and for the life of him he can’t remember any of the moves from those stupid Wii games. For the most part he just shifts from foot to foot, letting Betty do the dancing for him. When he’s on his own, he resorts to a mob-pit kinda bobbing around, occasionally taking Betty’s hand and spinning her around. He won’t last long out here. In fact, he's sitting down after the next song. But Betty’s smiling at him, and for now, that’s enough.

* * *

 

Song lyrics from this chapter (or scroll to the notes):

 

Footloose by Kenny Loggins

 

Been working so hard  
I'm punching my card  
Eight hours for what?  
Oh, tell me what I got  
I've got this feeling  
That time's just holding me down  
I'll hit the ceiling  
Or else I'll tear up this town

Now I gotta cut loose  
Footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes  
Please, Louise, pull me off of my knees  
Jack, get back, come on before we crack  
Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose

You're playing so cool, obeying every rule  
Deep way down in your heart  
You're burning, yearning for the some-somebody to tell you  
That life ain't passing you by  
I'm trying to tell you  
It will if you don't even try

 

You'll get by if you'd only cut loose  
Footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes  
Ooh-whee, Marie, shake it, shake it for me  
Whoah, Milo come on, come on let's go  
Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose

You got to turn me around  
And put your feet on the ground  
Gotta take the hold of all

I'm turning loose, footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes  
Please, Louise, pull me off of my knees  
Jack, get back, come on before we crack  
Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose

Footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes  
Please, Louise, pull me off of my knees  
Jack, get back, come on before we crack  
Lose your blues, everybody cut, everybody cut  
Everybody cut, everybody cut  
Everybody cut, everybody cut  
Everybody, everybody cut footloose

 

 

 

 

No You Girls by [Franz Ferdinand](https://www.google.com/search?q=Franz+Ferdinand&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAONgVuLUz9U3MEorMTMAAG_OtBINAAAA&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiwi6D94abcAhXFxYMKHdkCBJwQMQgsMAA)

 

 

Oh, kiss me  
Lick your cigarette, then kiss me  
Kiss me where your eye won't meet me  
Meet me where your mind won't kiss me

Lick your eyes and mine and then hit me  
Hit me with your eyes so sweetly  
Oh, you know you know you know that yes I love  
I mean I'd love to get to know you

Do you never wonder?  
No, no no no

You girls never know  
Oh no, you girls'll never know  
No you girls never know  
How you make a boy feel  
You girls never know  
Oh no, you girls'll never know  
No you girls never know  
How you make a boy feel  
How you make a boy

 

Oh, kiss me  
Lick your cigarette, then kiss me  
Kiss me where your eye won't meet me  
Meet me where your eye won't lick me  
Lick your mind and mine so briefly  
Oh you know, you know you're so sweetly  
Oh you know, you know that I know that I love you  
I mean I, I mean I need to love

Do you never wonder?  
No, no no no

You girls never know  
Oh no, you girls'll never know  
No you girls never know  
How you make a boy feel  
You girls never know  
Oh no, you girls'll never know  
No you girls never know  
How you make a boy feel  
How you make a boy feel  
How you make a boy

Sometimes I say stupid things  
That I think  
Well, I mean I  
Sometimes I think the stupidest things  
Because I never wonder  
Oh how the girl feels  
Oh how the girl feels

No you boys never care  
Oh no you boys'll never care  
No you boys never care  
How the girl feels  
No you boys never care  
You dirty boys'll never care  
No you boys never care  
How the girl feels

Oh how the girl feels  
Oh how the girl feels

 

 

 

Here's to the Night by [Eve 6](https://www.google.com/search?q=Eve+6&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAONgVuLUz9U3MLSIN8oBAPS9b0wNAAAA&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj97pmS4qbcAhWF_YMKHSSlAskQMQgsMAA) 

 

So denied  
So I lied  
Are you the now or never kind  
In a day  
And a day love  
I'm gonna be gone for good again  
Are you willing  
To be had  
Are you cool  
With just tonight

Here's a toast  
To all those who hear me all too well

And here's to the nights  
We felt alive  
Here's to the tears  
You knew you'd cry  
Here's to goodbye  
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

Put your name  
On the line  
Along with place and time  
Want to stay  
Not to go  
I want to ditch the logical

Here's a toast  
To all those who hear me all too well

Here's to the nights  
We felt alive  
Here's to the tears  
You knew you'd cry  
Here's to goodbye  
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

 

All my time is frozen motion  
Can't I stay an hour or two or more  
Don't let me let you go  
Don't let me let you go

Here's a toast  
To all those who hear me all too well

And here's to the nights  
We felt alive  
Here's to the tears  
You knew you'd cry  
Here's to goodbye  
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon  
Too soon  
Here's to the nights we felt alive  
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry  
Here's to goodbye  
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't they cutie patooties?! I imagine Betty singing along to Dr Horrible and Jughead's reaction to it being similar to that snapchat from Casey when they're sitting in Pop's booth and Lilli's singing with a silly face, Cole looking slightly traumatized next to her but loving every second of it. Yes I'm obsessed with Riverdale and its cast. Such is my life. Sprousehart and Bughead are two separate, amazing ships, and I am a huge supporter of both of them.  
> I have a hard time imagining Jughead being able to actually enjoy dancing in any capacity unless he can just kind of sway there with Betty in his arms or goof around like the games where he knows exactly what's expected and no one is looking at him. Archie may challenge him to a fake dance-off at some point, but I'm not sure.  
> I love protective Veronica. I can't explain why. I just imagine her as this fierce force of nature, encouraging Betty to change or stay the same or do whatever she wants while Kevin nods, hand raised in the background like, "PREACH!" Jughead is of course traumatized by change, but I think he's coming around, don't you?  
> Also I'm starting to like Jason Blossom as a character the more I write him. He's still a little jerkface, but I think pursuing music is helping him disengage from his insane family and channel it into something productive. He still has a little bit of that bratty "I'm an ARTIST" personality going on like that guy from That Thing You Do but it's enjoyable nonetheless. What do you think? Also yes, Cheryl is totally jealous of the Beronica ladylove vibe.  
> PS the hardest part of creating this chapter was deciding which songs to include. I imagine at some point they're dancing to Dance Dance by Fallout Boy because the lyrics are perfect but oh well. I am a giant sap and think that lyrics are important, which is why I provide them at the bottom of each chapter.


	4. Toucha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead and Veronica may have to quit the band if funds don't come in soon, so Betty goes into planning/fundraising overdrive to make sure the gang stays together. Cue a sexual night at the drive-in with Rocky Horror Picture Show

It's become easy to sit like this, the four of them in Pop's, rotating seats. Lately Jughead's been sliding in next to or across from Betty. She's half-convinced it's because she lets him eat her fries. Veronica usually just rolls her eyes if Jug sits next to her because he always avoids touching her and slinks even further into the booth to make room if she happens to come in after him. The blonde tries not to read too much into it, because V still isn't convinced that it means anything other than Jughead's a weirdo with tactile issues. Right now he's twisting his milkshake in a circular pattern instead of downing it with a bite of fresh salty goodness from his plate.

“I don’t know how much longer I can be in the band.”

Betty’s hand immediately clamps around his, anchoring him. For a second she falters, realizing how bold the gesture is if even Veronica and Archie flinch in surprise. “What do you mean, Jug? You’re…the bass. We need you.”

He shrinks under her intense gaze. Betty’s rarely this direct, but Jug _can’t_ quit the band. It’s…it’s like  _home_ , right? It’s like this, their booth at Pop’s. It’s one of the few times she can actually let loose and express herself, and it’s probably the only time Jughead actually interacts in a group setting beyond lunch period. Even then he usually still keeps to her or Archie.

The beanie-clad boy clears his throat, staring glumly at the table. “Tell that to Mayor McCoy, who refuses to help. It looks like the drive-in might be going under, and if it does, I’m out of a job, and that means I’m out of cash…so I have to find a part-time job after school, which’ll inevitably cut into band practice.”

“I hear that,” Veronica sighs glumly, surprising Betty. “Mom’s been picking up extra shifts at Pop’s, but at this rate I’m going to have to join her.”

Jughead squints a little unkindly. “Weren’t you _born_ into money?” Betty squeezes his hand in warning, but he doesn't back down. Thankfully Veronica takes every hit with ease.

“Yes, but now that daddy’s in prison all our funds are in some kind of trust. Hence, Pop’s and…Andrews Construction Company, although who knows how long that’ll last.” Even Archie shifts uncomfortably at that one. If Betty remembers correctly, it didn’t exactly work out when Jughead’s dad worked for Fred Andrews. Come to think of it, she’s not sure _what_ Jughead’s dad does anymore. It seems rude to ask, especially since all Jughead’s really volunteered is that he likes the hooch a bit too much.

Brainstorming for cash it is. Her teeth carve into her bottom lip, pulling up the right words. “Well…what if we turned the band into a job?”

“How?” Archie asks, leaning forward. “We didn’t even get paid to do homecoming.”

“We could do a fundraiser...and videos for our website to earn ads. And…use those investments to put our songs online so people can buy them. There have to be places that pay for bands around here. We just have to find them.”

“Betty,” Jughead starts, as if getting ready to let her down.

The words tumble out before he can finish. “No! This is unacceptable! You’re my best friends, and this…this is important. For college. For life. For just…us.” She lets out a shaky breath, trying not to tremble. There has to be a way to make this work. Jughead’s thumb caresses her skin from under the weight of her hand. It makes her feel tingly, flushed, even if his look is more pity than affection right now.

Veronica delicately takes another sip of her chocolate shake. “I appreciate it, B. If you can find a way to make this thing a full-time or part-time gig, I’m down.”

Moving forward in his seat, Archie looks like he’s ready for a huddle. “Let’s do it. I’m here to help, Betty. I mean, you all started this to help me so it’s only fair I figure out a way to make it help you.”

The four take their respective milkshakes and clink them together.

“Where there’s a milkshake, there’s a way,” Jughead smirks, and Betty’s fairly certain the chill wriggling down her throat isn’t just from the milkshake.

 

* * *

 

Betty’s not often _bold,_ although the whole band experience has certainly pushed her in that direction. She’s never petitioned this many people, especially strangers, for anything quite so…silly, as her mother would call it. She must have handed out hundreds of flyers, even in Greenville, and her and Kevin have been working online to promote the drive-in’s Rocky Horror Picture Show extravaganza. Then, the following week is Halloween and they’ll be having a party with a cover charge at Thornwood, Jason’s mansion. Between fundraisers, party planning, the Vixens, the band, _and_ homework, she hasn’t even had time to try and book gigs, let alone hang out with her friends outside of school. Her days have been spent packing prop bags for the impressive pre-sale of interactive items for the showing.

“What are you doing?” Betty asks, horrified when she sees her sister trying on a sparkling top hat in the costume closet.

That’s when Betty realizes that Cheryl is next to her, cape swooshing down her back like she’s some kind of vampire.

“Hey Betty. We’re just trying on our costumes.”

“For what? The movie?”

“JJ had a _brilliant_ idea,” Cheryl purrs, nails raking along Polly’s peachy shoulder. Betty's half-expecting a trail of blood to follow. “I know you pleebs are focusing on selling goodie bags, but we found that people are much more interested in donating to see us perform certain songs. We’re going to put on the show!”

Betty’s eyebrows knit together, glancing incredulously from Cheryl to Polly, who both smile expectantly at her. “Rocky Horror? We’re going to put on an entire musical…AT a musical showing…in one week?”

Cheryl’s long eyelashes accentuate her eye roll. “The drive-in has a _stage_ , Betty. We’re just going to act it out to the music from the movie and do a few numbers pre and post show.”

An eyebrow quirks before she can help it. “We? Cheryl, last time I checked, you weren’t in the band.”

The redhead scoffs as if Betty is typically rude. “Yeah, well apparently I’m the only one willing to put on a corset in public for you hobos. Plus it’ll be a bigger draw if there’s a chance of seeing us all in our underwear.”

The puzzle pieces snap together in her brain, Betty exclaiming, “ _You’re_ Frankenfurter?!”

Faux-wounded, Cheryl scowls at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Dumbfounded, Betty just stands there until her sister walks over to smooth her arms. “Hey Betty, it’s okay. We’ve talked about it.” Ha! They’ve talked about it. This thing she’s been killing herself planning, they just shred apart in two days. “Kevin’s agreed. He’ll be Brad, you’ll be Janet, I’m Columbia, Jason’s Eddie, and Veronica’s Magenta. RiffRaff…we’re still deciding how to split that part up. Jughead will probably be running the show, so he can just be the narrator or something. Oh, and we cast Archie as Rocky. Thought you’d appreciate that one,” Polly winks not-so-subtly.

“Oh my god,” is all Betty can manage. It’s bad enough that her sister and crazed head cheerleader are pimping them out, but to even _hint_ at enjoying the spectacle of Archie manhandled in a tiny speedo is enough to make her shiver in revulsion.

Undeterred, Polly takes her hand. “I’ll help you practice. Here. Let’s get you a silk nightie to wear under one of the ridiculous pink skirt suits mom has in her closet.”

 

* * *

 

Jughead isn’t sure whether to hate or love Betty for what she’s done to the drive in. This is by far the biggest crowd they’ve ever had with cars packed to the brim. It’s going to be a nightmare to get them all out of here. Valerie and Mal are volunteers at the sales booth. Josie sits with them to enjoy the show but refuses to work it, saying _she’s not here to work for any_ ** _man_** _,_ which elicits an eye roll from the other Pussycats. Part of Jughead wonders if it’s pride or jealousy that she wasn’t asked to be part of the performance. The good news is that with all the people packed in, the Serpents lingering in the outskirts are far less pronounced. Lots of people are dressed up, so a few people in leather isn’t anything out of the ordinary amidst glitter and underwear.

Before the show, Jughead plays _Hot Patootie_ with the rest of the band, dressed in what Kevin deems appropriate Narrator attire. No matter how much Kevin insists he looks like a _hottie_ without it, Jughead keeps the beanie firmly on his head. The show is fun, actually. People seem to be enjoying themselves…dancing, laughing, eating. Even Jason and Polly seem to have let go of the tortured lovebirds routine to play together, although how much of that is staged, Jughead doesn’t know.

Betty…Betty looks _amazing._ The ridiculously demure pink skirt-suit brings out the flush in her cheeks. Her and a dapper-looking Kevin look like they came out of a Polo catalogue or something. Smokey-eyed Veronica keeps fluffing Betty’s soft half-down hair in her palms, and Jughead can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy that he can’t do the same. Well, he _could_ , but not without looking like a totally pervy best friend. Come to think of it, how attached  _is_ Veronica to Betty? The brunette has certainly shown interest in men, but once in a while he gets this weird feeling that V would happily engage in some  _Jennifer's Body_ type shenanigans with her best blonde friend.

After the song, Betty anxiously wrings her hands and steps off the stage, Veronica distracted into helping Archie contour his abs.

“Hey," Jughead starts, needing to intercept Betty for the sole reason it makes him feel…important, in some weird way.

“Hey, Jug. Look how many people showed up,” she breathes, although whether it’s excitement or anxiety is still in the air.

“Yeah. You really pulls out all the stops with this one. It’s going to be hell to clean up after.”

Her eyes go wide. “I can stay. I can clean.”

It’s so… _Betty_ to offer to stay after and clean when she’s doing them all a huge favor. He shoves his hands in his pockets, wishing he could stuff them in his mouth instead. “Uh, what I meant was…thank you. This is the most full I’ve ever seen the drive-in. And even if this doesn’t work out, it really means a lot to me.”

Her expression softens, nearly melting for a moment, and just when they’re both beginning to smile Valerie’s voice calls out, “WE GOT TOUCHA-ME,” Archie speeding over to view the collection box in disbelief.

Betty goes rigid, and for a second Jughead wonders if she’s breathing.

The fundraiser must be going a little _too_ well if they’ve hit the marker where Betty’s going to have to get up there in lingerie and grope Archie for an entire song.

“You don’t…you don’t have to do this,” he tries, unable to look her in the eyes. It makes him feel too vulnerable, like he’s begging her to stay…and no one ever really _stays_ for Jughead.

Her voice is clipped, the Cooper instincts clicking in. “It’s fine. Part of the gig, right?” Smoothing her skirt, Betty takes another deep breath. Is it because…she’s nervous about touching Archie? Or having him touch her? Something twists in Jughead’s gut and he decides not to think about it anymore.

Trying to steady his nerves, he switches into humor, smoothing the smoking jacket Kevin has him in. “As is being a dapper gentleman.”

“You’re always a gentleman, Jug,” she says softly, and something inflates in his chest. 

He’s seen these kinds of moments in the movies. The soft, tender things where the boy leans in, cupping her face, and they just instinctively kiss as if the universe is drawing them together. But the sound of Jason Blossom’s voice disrupts the current of romanticism with a “Places!” and for a second Jughead wants to hurl the drum set at him.

A small shiver runs through her body, her gaze flickering over everything a little warily. It’s going to be a long night for both of them, and for a second Jughead considers just asking her to go out with him. If she can handle putting together an entire fundraiser under Cheryl and Jason Blossom’s dictatorship, she can definitely handle a date with a Jones. For a second he thinks she might be reading his mind, the anxiety gone and a new sort of alertness in her demeanor. She’s _reading_ him, and over her shoulder someone else is trying to.

_Shit_ , he realizes. He’s a _Jones_ …and the other person in his life with acute awareness hones in on him from afar. FP’s watching them curiously, the Serpents enjoying and mocking the spectacle of everything. Jughead’s insides curl with embarrassment.

Sensing a disturbance in the force, Betty lightly touches his wrist. “You going to sit with us?”

“I’ve got the booth,” he gestures, nodding to the projector booth on the second floor of concessions. While part of him longs to throw things with his friends, another part knows he’d just be fighting to sit next to Betty or Archie, knowing Veronica often jostles a little more aggressively for those same spots. There’s a hierarchy, with Betty being the most sought-after seat partner. Jughead would hate to be the odd one out because of some musical chairs or whatever, especially with his dad watching him like that, like he’s unraveling some kind of secret. “Uh, I’ll catch you later.” Cheeks burning, he barely has time to hear her stilted goodbye before he retreated to the safety of the main building.

After quickly restocking the refreshments, he makes his way to the projector booth only to sense a familiar broad-shouldered figure looming near the door like a stain on the metal.

“So…Jug.” His father’s easy, curious tone makes him want to punch through the door, locks be damned.“Who’s the blonde?”

“Bandmate.” The shorter the answer, the better. He doesn’t want his dad anywhere _near_ Betty.

“Your band, huh? The one with Archie? Seems like that’s going well.” For all the effort of remaining casual, his father has this slick way of prying where he doesn’t belong.

“Yeah. Well. I gotta…”

“Right, kid. Gotta get back to the adoring public. Especially if they’re cute.” His father’s wink fills him with revulsion. Any kind of fuzzy feelings he’s been suppressing (or tending to, really) seem ridiculous when confronted by the idea his father finds it endearing.

Jughead slams into his secret setup in the projector booth, occasionally glancing out the window to catch his friends up at the front in their skits. Jughead does his narrator “lines” over the pa system, and even though he’s always considered himself more of a writer, a narrator in his own right, he desperately wishes he could be down there with them. Just…be a _part_ of it. His gaze falters to the polaroid of him and Jellybean tacked to the wall. They’re happy, smiling kids there. They were still poor, but they had each other. He wonders if JB has friends the same way he has Betty and Archie. Lately she’s been talking about Pink Floyd. So…maybe he’ll see if the band wants to learn something for her. They could post it on the website, a tribute to JB. His sister may never be able to see him perform, otherwise, and the thought depresses him. Jughead guesses it’s a good as time as any to write some lyrics, and only vaguely pays attention to the spectacle below.

Girls are literally _screaming_ , piercing ear drums when Archie removes his RiffRaff tux to reveal a speedo for I Can Make You a Man. Cheryl drags a gloved finger dramatically along his abs, milking the scene for all it’s worth, miming licking her way along them. Jughead finds it a little distasteful, but he’s pretty sure Val finds it worse, because she’s glaring daggers at the both of them. That’s not what he’s most worried about though…and soon enough, Creature of the Night comes on. Betty gets on the stage, wobbly-legged and shy, even as she starts to shed the pink suit. Jughead’s chest constricts, and he’s both angry and thankful that Cheryl’s cronies are filming up front so he can see what he’s missed. Betty looks angelic in just the light pink silky nightgown. It’s not the bra and silky skirt from the movie, but it’s racy enough to suit the hollering catcalls of the Bulldogs. Jughead’s mouth goes dry, and he watches with tortured fasciation as the girl of his (dreams?) childhood mimes flirting and seducing a very eager Archie/Rocky. He is convinced Archie is unofficially the luckiest, dumbest man in the universe to pass up on going out with Betty Cooper. What he wouldn’t give…

Jughead slams the thought shut in his mind. His dad would have a _field_ day if Betty was placing Jughead’s hands on her chest (not breasts, Archie and Betty decided earlier to keep it PG), hips, and grinding hips against him. His stomach churns, but he’s not sure if it’s because he’s uncomfortable _for_ her or because he desperately wants to know what that silken nightgown feels like when it’s pressed up against her skin. It’s a terribly inappropriate thought for a friend, but he’s been having a lot of those lately.

Finally, it ends. Archie looks like he’s embraced the silent sex toy role pretty well, and that should be the last fundraiser song they needed to mime. Of course Cheryl is still trying to egg people on to buy a mimed performance of “I’m Going Home” or the scene where they’re all in fishnets but thankfully, things don’t get that far. When he tries to catch where Betty ran off to, he notes with some admiration that Archie’s holding up his tux jacket so she can get back into her pink suit in pseudo-privacy. Betty’s flushed, thankful, before heading back down to the booth, presumably for a snack. She orders two bags of chips, ignoring Reggie’s call, “How much for a private dance, Cooper?”

Betty scowls enough for the both of them, and grabs her chips before surprisingly heading around the back. She can’t be—no. The Serpents watch her curiously, and Jughead panics when he hears the tell-tale knock at the door. 

“Jug? Can I come in?”

“Shit. Shit shit _shit_ ,” he mutters, quickly moving stuff around and swiveling in his chair to try and hide the mattress and obvious encampment in the booth. “Uh, better not. Don’t want to get fired.”

“Please, after how much money we made them tonight? Let me in. If only to drop off your chips.”

Groaning, his brain is already in hyperdrive when he paces to the door and opens it just a peek. He bright eyes stun him, as usual, and for some reason tonight it sends a sinking feeling down through his feet instead of floating on a high. “You can’t be here.”

“Okay,” she allows cautiously, trying to peer past him. “I always thought you were a bit of a rebel.”

“I was. But that was before…the fire nation attacked,” he finishes dramatically, not sure where this sudden bravado is coming from.

Giggling, she scoots in closer and offers him either bag of chips. “I thought I could steal away for a while…you know, until people forget what I look like in my underwear.”

“Oh,” his breath comes out raspy. “I don’t think they’re going to do that for a while. If ever. You are quite the sight to behold, Betty Cooper. In a good way, obviously.”

“Thanks,” she shrugs, seemingly _pleased_ by the compliment. I mean, he guesses anyone being told they look hot nearly naked is a good thing. It’s so _stupid_. She’s _clearly_ into it. Him. Maybe.

A Serpent known as Joaquin peeks around the side of the building with a few other friends, watching curiously. Betty immediately squirms at the unfamiliar attention and a roar in Jughead’s chest prompts him to haul her inside where it’s safe and slam the door shut on any prying eyes.

“Oh!” she gasps, floundering against his chest to right herself. Jughead’s suddenly very aware of how dark it is the projection room…how _warm_. His fingers stay trained on the curve of her back, afraid to move. Underneath the beanie, his scalp is screaming to be touched, to be itched. The lyrics from the song creep into his mind (I've got an itch to scratch...) and he swears all this tension must be from the movie.

“Um…you said something about chips? I guess you can hang out for a few minutes, if you want.”

“Gee, thanks.” Her gaze curiously sweeps the projection room, and suddenly Jughead feels like this is _way_ more intimate than showing her the trailer. This is where he actually _lives_.

“I, um…I camp out here sometimes…if there’s a late movie,” Jughead quickly explains, noting the way her eyes hesitate on the mattress in the corner.

Without prying, Betty sets the chips on the table and makes her way around the room, carefully trying to make out the photos and posters on the walls. “Is this your sister?” she asks, tracing the edges of the polaroid. His heart aches.

“Yes.”

"I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to meet her."

"Me too."

They fall into a companionable silence as she takes in everything else. Why is she looking at everything like it’s a piece of art? Like this is some fascinating museum? It’s a makeshift campout and old drive-in projection room. The whole thing’ll probably be torn down in a few months anyway.

Maybe that’s why she likes it, he thinks glumly. It’s a relic. Something doomed for the chopping block and a bygone era. “The place is kinda a dump…but it’s basically my home away from home,” he half-kids.

Betty looks at him like he’s just said he doesn’t care for James Dean. “What are you talking about? It may be a little run-down, but I think that adds to the charm. I like it here.” Something in his chest whines like a starting engine.

“I guess it does have a certain Old Hollywood aesthetic." If she could only see how pretty she is amidst the glow of the projection booth, flyaway hairs, stage makeup and all. Her fingers trace other posters, other memories he’s tacked on the wall. Half-scribbled song lyrics. It feels like centuries before she turns back to face him and he can breathe again. He’s just waiting for her to laugh it all off, but instead her eyes are dreamy, happy.

“You know,” she smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning against the table with him. He’d left the one stool open for her, but she chose to be with _him_. Any attention from Betty Cooper feels like some weird blessed fever-dream with Rocky Horror playing in the background. “My dad used to take me and Polly here all the time. We’d look at the cars, get a huge bucket of popcorn and fight over who got to sit in the front seat. Eventually we’d all just cram into the back. It was nice.” Absent-mindedly, she pulls at her skirt to try and cover her pale thighs.

Jughead’s breath hitches dangerously in his chest, so he says the first words that come to mind. “Yeah, Dad took me and Jellybean here on occasion. Most often her and me would sneak in, snacks already in tow and watch from the back. Mom never liked the idea of us riding in on a motorcycle so sometimes we’d borrow a station wagon. JB would usually have to sit on one of our laps the whole time so we encouraged her to walk around when our legs got numb. I went with her so she didn’t get child-snatched or anything.”

“She’s cute. I’m glad you protected her, and I’m sure she appreciated it.” Betty’s toes scrape the floor, absently digging. “I was always the little sister tagging along. Even now with the band,” she rolls her eyes, self-deprecating. “But I _want_ to be with my sister, even if I am annoying.”

“So if you want to be with her, what are you doing in here with me?”

“I want to be with you too,” she blushes, rubbing her ear on her shoulder.

Oh. _Oh._

“It’s not like…loving your sister prevents you from loving someone else. I can annoy both of you,” she mutters a little self-deprecatingly, and he’s not sure if she’s actually dabbling in sarcasm.

“You are _not_ annoying,” he laughs, unaware that their hands have moved closer together. The very idea of Betty's presence being annoying is absurd. Even when she'd crash Archie and his gaming sessions, it just became a  _new_ kind of get-together, usually a smarter one. “Like, okay, maybe when you suggest _one more thing_ and it’s actually twelve, but Polly’s lucky to have you as a sister. Are you kidding me? Listening to her rag on about Jason all the time, I’d have shot myself.”

A small giggle slides through the room, more refreshing to Jughead than air conditioning. “That’s what we do. We talk about boys, steal each other’s clothes…everything. I love my sister.”

_So do I_ , Jughead thinks painfully, glancing at the photo tacked to the wall. “So what kinda boys have you been talking about?” _What are you dooiiiiing?_ he scolds himself.

Betty chuckles nervously, like something is stuck in her throat, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

Irritated, he glares at the wall across from them with his usual surliness. “Jason and Archie I presume?”

“Uh…yeah,” she muses, almost sing-song, teasing. “But that was a while ago. She’s gotten with Jason, obviously, and…” She bites her _pink perfection_ coated lips (god he knows too much about their makeup), inspiring him to gnaw on his own non-perfect lips in a weird kind of hunger. “Archie’s not really in the picture anymore. Well, I mean, obviously, we’re in the same band…but he’s back to being one of my best friends and neighbors. It’s not like I have to _talk_ about him.”

Jughead lets something unspoken drift between them. So there is someone she feels compelled to talk about? “I guess there wouldn’t be much to talk about considering you just felt each other up onstage.” She laughs, shaking her head.

“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not _romantic_. Nothing about Rocky Horror is…romantic. It’s silly,” she shrugs amicably.

“Doesn’t mean Janet wasn’t excited about it. I mean, hooking up with two hunks and an orgy before supposedly walking down the aisle with the picture-perfect Brad. At least those guys knew what they were doing.” Jughead literally wants to shove his face _into_ the projector for all he might as well be alluding to. He’s a virgin. Yes. No need to tell the girl he _likes_ that, but something slightly self-destructive in Jughead that he still has trouble suppressing, even when (especially when) it comes to Betty.

Taken aback, Betty narrows her eyes. Oh boy, they’re getting philosophical about Rocky Horror Picture Show. The real Frankenfurter would be ashamed of him for not making some moves or sweet music instead of tearing at the seams of their relationship.

“I don’t think it’s about Frankenfurter knowing what he’s _doing…_ I think it’s more about that he’s fearless. That’s what makes people attracted to him He’s not afraid of being who he his, and after being with him, the others feel that way too. Confident. They’re not afraid to ask for what they want, or take it even.”

“Sounds sort of like Veronica.”

For a second Betty looks afraid. It’s weird, seeing her scared like that when just a second ago she was carefree and relaxed. “Do you…like Veronica?”

His laugh echoes much harsher than hers in the tiny space. “Um, no.” He quirks an eyebrow, noticing that she’s still studying him warily. “Isn’t that…obvious? I mean, I don’t hate her or anything, but the only people I _like_ …” the words unstick from his throat, “are you and Archie. Everyone else is negligible.”

The news unsettles her, and she shifts next to him, green kaleidoscope eyes falling to the floor to process. Great. He’s still a total weirdo and tries to think of what to say, popping open a chip bag to fill the silence by shoving food into his mouth. The salt and grease coats his tongue, and he hopes that the food will serve him into better conversation.

“Um…who makes you feel brave, Juggie?”

Surprised, he looks over at her. It’s never…been asked of him before. Sure, he could say his sister, for the times he got his butt kicked protecting her on the way home. But it’s not like he was brave enough to stop the car. It’s not like he’s ever done anything really brave besides leave his drunken father at the trailer. Although he and Archie go camping and on random adventures he’s not really sure that’s _brave_ either. The only brave thing he’s ever done is step onstage and dance in front of people he doesn’t trust.

Bag of chips forgotten, he pushes them to the side to give himself more space to think. For all his talk, when it comes down to it, is he really ever brave? When his tongue reaches out to catch some of the leftover salt, Jughead swears Betty’s eyes flicker to his mouth. It’s only a second, but it’s enough for him to know the answer. He wipes his fingers on the back of his pants, damn whatever Kevin says.

“I guess there is _someone._ ”

Betty eyes are infinitely deeper and more colorful than the pool scene over her shoulder. She follows him with rapt attention as he stands and turns to square himself in front of her.

Swelling music urges him on. _Don’t dream it, be it_.

His fingers find the back of her neck, edging slowly into the soft warmth of her hair.

“Juggie,” she whispers, lips parted just a little, just enough to fill him with want and wonder.

He takes a breath, closes his eyes, and dives in for his first _real_ kiss with Betty Cooper. Everything in him swells with the emotion of it all, the _romanticism_ of having wanted her for _so long_ and here she is in all her pink perfection tasting the salt on his lips. That dark thing coiled in his gut stretches and sings, practically combusting when her hands reach up and tug into his own hair, deepening the kiss. He pulls away just a hair to catch his breath.

Shit, this is so much better than dancing.

Betty laughs against him, and he realizes he actually said that aloud. Her eyes slit open, teasing him affectionately. “Glad you enjoyed yourself,” she smiles, and it’s _his._ Betty has a smile just for him, and it’s _satisfied._

The overwhelming need for more pushes him flush against her, and suddenly he is _very_ enamored of the silky texture of her tongue, her skin, and the material of her costume. The overstimulation is driving him crazy, making him hungrier if that’s even possible.

_Slow down, you animal_ , he chides himself, even though the rest of his body is painfully aware that he is in fact right between her thighs right now. She’s teaching him, coaching him how she wants it by the way she moves her lips. He briefly wonders if she’s done this before. Regardless, she’s never done it in a projection room with the boy that she loves, right?

_Loves._ He doesn’t have the heart to scold himself, or to think too much about the feeling that **_he_** **loves** **_her_**. It’s hormones. Chip-fueled, Rocky-Horror-inspired lust. But really it’s just her, and that makes him moan against her, needing to burn himself on the feeling of being in her arms.

It could be two, it could be ten minutes later, because his lips are bursting with numb pleasure by the time he notes the whir of the projector clicking, signaling they’re near the end of the reel.

“Shit,” he mutters, stuttering against her. Her breathy chuckle sends even more blood rushing somewhere he really doesn’t have time to think about.

“W—what can I do to help?” she asks, woogley-eyed and flushed. _I did that,_ he thinks boldly, awestruck.

“Oh, if only I had time to answer that.” Cursing himself at having to untangle from his every fantasy, Jughead bolts over to the projector and steadies it, readying for the credits. Once he’s certain he has a handle on things, he dares to look at the blonde goddess on the table nearby.

She’s fluffing her hair, smoothing her costume…and is that a smile she’s biting back? Betty’s tongue peeks out to smooth her swollen lips, and in some weird sick way he’s hoping she’s searching for a remaining taste of him, of _them,_ because that’s what he’ll be doing for the next hour…and possibly lifetime.

He stares, waiting for whatever she has to say to him. Rejection? Glee? Two words from this girl could absolutely destroy him. “I’m…um, I’m really happy you felt brave tonight, Jug,” she swallows shyly, as if it’s a secret that he brings her joy. As if he _could_ when he practically drowns in it every time she grins at him.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Suave. So he’s Han Solo now.

“I, um, I’m not sure if we’re doing an encore at the end. But I can sit with you here if you want.”

“Sure.”

Clearing her throat, Betty sits demurely on the table with her feet tucked to the side. They don’t really talk too much as he cleans up, and honestly Jughead’s barely aware of what he’s doing anymore. Trusting his body to mechanically set everything up, he tries to calm his heartbeat and think of things like baseball before they inevitably have to face the crowd.

“Oh.” Her single syllable catches his attention like a live wire. She holds up her phone a little apologetically. “We’re supposed to go down for photos at the end. Apparently they have a hashtag set up to promote the band. Also, Kevin found a new boyfriend or something. Guy said he admired the view in his tighty-whiteys. Wanna go down?”

Cheeks still warm, he shakes his head. “Um, maybe later. I get the feeling not many people will want a photo with the narrator.”

Piercing through his self-depreciation, Betty grabs onto his suspenders. He’s fairly certain he’s going to melt on the spot. “Only because they didn’t see these,” she teases, fingers feinting over his chest between the snappy material that normally hangs from his waist. Swallowing hard, Jughead nods, wanting to kiss her again. Her eyes follow to his mouth. They’re getting good at this nonverbal thing. “But I did. And I do want a picture with you, so come down later, okay? I want a picture to remember tonight.” He nods again, stricken mute by the sheer weight of everything.

He’s the boy people want to forget about…and this muse wants a picture of him. Forever. To be put on that silly vanity she studies every day before school, the one she looks to for strength before plowing through two more hours of parent-sanctioned studying. Maybe he can get one for the booth. Is that too much? Is that too soon?

_I love you_ , he wants to say, knowing it would ruin anything and everything. He’s just a stupid hormonal teenager. So he chokes it back and gratefully accepts the lingering kiss she gives him before exiting the building, leaving both bags of chips on the table for him. In a weird way, he hopes that’s her way of saying it to him in their own unspoken language.

_I love you, Jughead. Have some chips._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a big giant sap and I like RHPS. Seriously, the cleanup is going to take eight thousand years, especially if the Serpents are there. Val is NOT happy with FrankenCheryl's greedy little talons whereas Veronica and Kevin are seriously enjoying the spectacle of it all. I imagine them with those little opera glasses checking out the crowd and feeling swanky. I get the feeling Jason would SING RiffRaff's part in Time Warp but Archie would act it out for the skit doing elbow sex with Veronica because Polly is having none of that nonsense. Archie's such a little gentleman (right now at least) that I love the idea of him being basically naked and but helping Betty modestly get back into her suit because it feels weird for him to have his best girl be half-naked in front of a crowd. I originally wasn't intending on Jughead and Betty kissing in this chapter but I thought about it and was like, "They are in a private projection booth, she brought him snacks, they're bonding over family/love/the drive-in, and there is ridiculous sex and bravado all over the place and Jug's in a new more confident place. Of course something is going to happen!" Hopefully you agree :) Lemme know in the comments how you're feeling! The drive-in night will continue in the next chapter a bit, and then Jason's part-ay!


	5. Wyrm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing at the White Wyrm is dangerous for a lot of reasons, but Jughead can't seem to convince anyone else about it until they actually get there. Of course his friends they just dive right into it.

The rest of the Rocky Horror event is a smash, if an explosive one. During photos, Cheryl gets a little _too_ into character and gropes anyone and everyone with those razor sharp talons. Archie gets a particularly bruising pinch on his butt, flinching and sending a glance over to Val. A pink-haired girl asks for a photo with the girls, wrapping an arm around Cheryl’s mostly-visible midsection.

“With that hair, you’d actually make a good Magenta,” Betty muses, her hand brushing aside the bright hair on her tanned shoulder so she can pose properly.

“Matches your outfit,” Veronica teases Betty, pulling just a section of the colorful hair outwards as if the girl is being shocked.

The redhead Vixen eyes their fan mischievously. “Please. She’s way more adventurous than Betty.”

Only slightly affronted, Betty rolls her eyes and poses for the photo again, Polly ignoring all of them.

The pink-haired girl turns to the group. “It’s nice to see more sexy girls out in Riverdale. Let me know when you have another set, maybe I can help out.”

“Give us your number and maybe we will,” Cheryl grins, like maybe she’ll just eat her up. Their newest fan leaves her number at the sales desk, and Cheryl returns rather aggressively to the waiting public like she’s made for it. She picks apart their clothes, runs her hands dangerously over their butts, and Betty’s honestly afraid she’s about to get turned in for harassment, even if the fans _seem_ to be enjoying it. She’s not even _in_ the band.

Cheryl only tones it down when Jason sharply calls her name. A stilled flush sets over the head Vixen so fast that Betty _almost_ asks if she’s okay.

Everyone seems really into the costume idea, prompting Veronica to wrap her arm around Betty and gleefully declare, “See? I told you. Everyone’s a sucker for some really good lingerie.”

They sputter into laughter, one of the phones around them capturing the moment. Betty poses for what feels like an hour, various people shifting in and out of the frame, but her beanie-clad Romeo remains evasive.

“H-hey,” one of the patrons mutters shyly. His smile is so sweet that Betty can’t help but almost feel sorry for him. She’s seen him around school.

“Hi,” she replies kindly, trying to remain as friendly and open as possible. Every person is a potential fan, a potential investor, she tries to remind herself. Her mother’s engrained politeness in her so deeply that she’s not even sure she _could_ be mean to someone who just wants a photo.

“Uh, I’m Trev. Valerie’s brother.” She’s not sure why the explanation is necessary, but nods anyway. What grades are they in? While she tries to work it out, he shuffles forward, his friends leering at them. “So um, you were really great up there.”

“Oh, thank you,” she smiles, arm easily going around him to take the photo. He feels lukewarm, sort of like the other fifty-some people she’s posed with.

His friends take the photo but he hovers still, not quite removing his arm from her shoulder. “Um, I saw you at homecoming and some of your videos. You guys are just…really good. You’re my favorite.”

Blushing, she laughs. Some days it feels like she’s the least talented one out there, even though she does pick up the extra instruments when needed. “Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Your voice…and, uh, you’re the prettiest.”

Betty’s face must be on fire, because while she expects some general comments like Reggie’s, “Dammit, Janet, I got something you can touch!” she isn’t expecting someone to confess she’s _pretty_ …especially when not an hour ago Jughead had confessed she made him feel _brave_. Is it the outfit? With Veronica and Polly in the band, it just surprises her to be seen at all, let alone be called the _prettiest_.

Before she can really recover, Trev awkwardly moves his hand to her lower back and asks, “Do you think I could take you out sometime?”

Gaping, she wonders if somehow Rocky Horror has transferred her into an alternate universe. It’s not like Jughead and her have _defined_ anything, but they did _just_ make out in possibly the hottest way possible (on a table! in a booth! her mind squeals to itself, although really just the fact that it was Jughead is enough to make her light-headed). “Trev, that’s so sweet, but I’m actually—I’m kinda seeing someone.”

“Kinda? So…is there any room to play?” he asks sheepishly.

Affronted, Betty feels her jaw twitch. “ _No_. Thanks for the support. We look forward to seeing you at other shows.”

Trev ducks his head, ashamed. “Yeah. Uh, yeah of course.”

He scurries away into the safety of his friends, who push him around just a little for getting burned. They mutter something about him never getting in the playbook or some kind of slang she doesn’t quite catch. Rolling her eyes, Betty delves deeper into the pack of her bandmates.

“What is with people? I just had someone ask me if there was room to _play_ so they could get into some book,” Betty hisses to Veronica.

“Well,” she shrugs, the maid costume somehow miraculously staying atop her shoulders. “This movie gets people randy. Even I’m on the lookout for a new piece of man candy.”

“Ugh, don’t let Reggie hear you,” Betty grimaces, looking for the walking stereotype. Instead, a familiar beanie finally catches her eye. Her initial elation flies suspended when she catches the wary expression on his face, aware of the way he lurks in the shadows. His attention’s directed at some leather-clad adults (Serpents?) in the back, a well-dressed woman approaching the handsomest one.

Chic and confident, Veronica turns as if she’s practicing a pose, expecting to greet an adoring fan or supportive mother. “Oh my god, is that my mom?!” Seeing Hermione shuffle off with the handsome man in the leather jacket makers her cat-like eyes narrow in confusion. For a second Betty thinks Veronica’s going to pounce and tear the pair apart. Her hand instinctively goes for her friend’s arm.

“We don’t _know_ if it’s her.”

“Who else in Riverdale has a Burberry coat from 1989?” Veronica snaps, hoisting her costume up so she can track down her mother. Betty follows suit, feeling like maybe she shouldn’t be alone for this. Mr. Lodge is in _jail_ , not dead, so seeing Hermione get all bashful around Fred Andrews and walk off with another man after Rocky Horror is legitimate reason for concern.

Jughead notices the intense energy moving towards the Serpents and tries to intercept. “Where are you going? I thought we had pictures to take.”

“Sure, just have to say hi to my _mother_ and her new _boyfriend,”_ Veronica hisses, practically shouldering past him.

“Jug—“ Betty starts, not sure whom to tend to.

“Those guys are Serpents,” Jughead warns them, hands up as if he’s guarding them in basketball. “And I can say with utmost certainty that none of them are dating your mother.” He falters, looking annoyed. “At least, it’s not _likely_. The one she’s talking to is sorta married.”

“What a coincidence! So is _she,_ ” Veronica growls, visibly inflating with some invisible current rushing through her veins to the strands in her hair.

Betty’s comforting presence acts as the grounding, some kind of rubber to temper the electric girl before she combusts. “Veronica, we should trust Jug on this. We can wait here to make sure your mom’s all right and then talk to her after, right?” Her pleading gaze isn’t lost on Jughead, who still seems a bit stricken before recovering enough to nod.

“Fine,” Veronica huffs. Still tingling with the need for control, she grabs Betty by the wrist and pushes her in front of her while snagging her phone from inside her cleavage. Jughead rolls his eyes up to the sky, and Betty doesn’t have the heart to tell him it’s honestly the best place to keep it in these kinds of costumes. “Let me take a picture of you,” Veronica orders. “Distract me, _and_ get evidence. Twofold winner.”

“Uh…sure,” Betty blushes, posing demurely as Janet while simultaneously storing away that tactic for future use…just in case she ever needs a photo on the sly. The beanie-clad boy Betty just made out with shifts uncomfortably. What does he have to be bashful about? Everything should be…easy now, right? They’ve kissed, so they’re together. Does she look weird or something…or does he regret it? Pushing aside self-doubt, Betty extends her hand. “Wanna join me, Juggie?”

Stricken, he just sort of takes her in, like he’s unfamiliar with the gesture. Betty’s heart nearly crumbles, and just as she’s about to take another step towards him he makes the leap for himself. Moving past her hand, he encircles her waist and presses his face against her in a side hug. She feels anchored, loved, and honestly a little gleefully surprised. Even Veronica looks momentarily distracted, enough to actually focus on the two people in front of her, angling the camera for a better angle.

“Nice. Didn’t know you had it in you, Jughead.”

His eyes crinkle around the sides, taking in Betty’s hopeful, happy glimmer. “Neither did I.”

 

* * *

 

Archie bursts out of a group photo at the smack of a metal box closing. Valerie’s slamming the sales table up and walking off with Mal, shaking her head while Josie preens, “I told you so.”

“Val, wait! I told you it didn’t mean anything!” Archie pleads, his jacket billowing around his very visible abdomen.

“Whatever, Archie. You wanna whore yourself out, be my guest. But I’m not going to associate with someone who lets people _grope_ him in public.”

Betty’s cheeks flush pink, hoping she’s not talking about _her_. She’d thought their skit was about as PG as she could make it.

“They’re just _fans…_ and Cheryl.”

“That’s one too many gropes for me, Archie. I may be a Pussycat, but people know damn well they can’t grab any of it!”

Groaning, Archie tries to plead with her. “I didn’t know! I mean, this is the first time we’ve really been approached by fans. I didn’t know what to expect—“

“Well expect yourself to be single, because I’m out.”

In a weird way, Betty really _respects_ Valerie. She’s only a year older, but she acts mature beyond her years. Val’s got talent up the wazoo, her lyrics and beats are really the heart of the Pussycats. Even though she deals with Josie on a regular basis, apparently her BS tolerance is _low_ , and poor act-first think-later Archie probably never stood a chance.

Dejected, Archie stands amidst the chaos watching his now-ex storm off with her friends. Before Betty can fully disengage between Veronica and Kevin, Jughead’s at his side, hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man. Sorry about Val. Just more fodder for the original songs, right?”

“Right,” Archie mutters, nodding his head. “Let’s—uh—let’s finish taking pictures for the fans.”

Archie returns, but the goofy demeanor is long-gone. Betty and Jughead silently agree that taking care of Archie takes priority over sorting out the new best friend and band dynamics. Besides, it might be kind of fun to keep it a secret for a little bit. It’s just _theirs_ then. Of course her friends’ keen sense of drama may oust them anyway, but she’ll do her best to respect this…something new. The thought makes her giddy again, so she turns and wraps an arm around Kevin.

Kevin is always so debonair, so classically handsome that she thinks he’d make a perfect Prince Charming. He’s been her ever-present date to every formal since 7th grade, since Archie started asking other girls and she desperately longed for someone tall to sway with her. Though she infinitely treasures her time with Kevin, a little part of her wonders why she never thought to ask Jughead—why he never thought to ask _her_. Maybe things are supposed to happen in their own time…but she feels impatient, overheated with need. Part of her wants to snag the lockbox of money and focus on the profits to be reinvested for her friends, but a louder part wants to drag Jughead by his suspenders into a dark corner and resume what they’d started. Maybe not even just the kissing part…maybe just the _closeness_ held its own allure.

“So _that_ finally happened.” Kevin remarks demurely.

Betty flushes. Is he reading her mind? “What?”

“The end of Varchie. Val and Archie. Oh…that would totally be the Veronica/Archie celeb couple name too. Weird. Or…interesting?” His eyebrow quirks, intrigued.

“Speaking of _interesting_ , do you think a Rocky Horror hookup is going to last?” Her teeth bite down a smile, knowing that her own simply _has_ to continue. They’ve been friends for too long for it not to.

Kevin, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Oh please. It has the same chance as Varchie at this point. _But…_ and hold onto your nightie, my hookup got _us_ a hookup.”

Betty’s eyebrow crooks in confusion, bordering on revulsion. “Drugs?”

“No!” he laughs, as though it’s obvious the sheriff’s son is not looking for that kind of debauchery. “A gig.” Her insides feel like they’re spiraling, eyes blowing wide. “Archie’s not the only one being an accidental whore for the band. Some kind of rock bar. You can thank me la—“

“THANK YOU!” she squeals, throwing her arms around him with full force. It knocks the wind out of him, and they almost take out Jason and Polly behind them.

“Wh—what’s going on?” Polly asks, enjoying Betty’s enthusiasm.

“We—Kevin got us—you tell them,” she breathes, knowing he’ll love sharing the drama. And he does.

 

* * *

 

Jughead knows this is a terrible idea. He spent the better part of an hour cleaning up with Betty, keeping an eye on her and her sister talking in the aisles, cleaning up where they could. “It’d be easier if we just got a rideable vacuum cleaner,” he huffs, trying not to smile too much when Betty laughs.

Polly rolls her eyes and keeps pestering Betty, “I’m thinking of a cover story. Something like helping Jason decorate for Halloween or something.”

“But what if people take photos? Videos? Pol, mom’s _going_ to find out. Dad may not track us with GPS devices but I’m pretty sure Mom does.”

“So let’s leave our phones at Jason’s.”

“Pol!”

“What? It’s not like we’re going to be without a ride or protection or something. Besides, some biker bar isn’t exactly going to be bragging about hosting a bunch of high school kids for the night just so one of their own could get laid.”

The term _get laid_ seems to repulse Betty, who stares at her sister like she’s wondering how they’re related. Sometimes Jughead wonders the same thing. Although the Cooper girls both tend to get wrapped up in their own heads, Betty’s infinitely more protective of her friends and hates to let people down whereas Polly tends to run from it. He doesn’t _dislike_ Polly, but he doesn’t like the way she’s always holier-than-thou and bossing around Betty when she isn’t ignoring her. Jellybean annoyed the crap out of him too, but he’d never _leave_ her when their parents were fighting, when FP got too drunk to stand. Polly’d sneak out of the house at the first sight of a Cooper meltdown, leaving Betty in the wake of destruction. Even just from movie nights, he knew the second something stopped interesting Polly Cooper or she got a better offer she was off on her own. In some ways, that was worrisome for the band.

Maybe they’d break up before the gig. Although what that Cooper decisiveness means for him and Betty…

Archie interrupts his internal somersaults by crooning loudly along to the music Jughead’d set up on the speakers for the breakdown.

“Jeez, Arch, could you keep it down?”

Unaffected, still in as much of a funk as Archie Andrews can really get, he sloshes another empty cup into a trash bag. “No. Hey, what should we play on Thursday? I’m thinking _When the Levy Breaks_.”

“That song’s like seven minutes long.”

“So? Our set’s an hour. An _hour_ just for us! Yeah it’s on a weekday, but like…this could be a game-changer. Betty’s really got the ball rolling on this…I think we could make some serious money from this Jug. We could go to college. Or even—I don’t know, if it really takes off, just like…play in the band with our best friends forever.”

Jughead instinctively tries to divert his friend’s eyes from the genius blonde currently tying bags and hauling them into the dumpster. Is there anything she can’t do?

“I’d hardly call Jason my best friend, and I don’t think this gig’s a good idea. A biker bar? Betty? Come on, I can’t be the only one who thinks it’s going to be a scene out of Blues Brothers where they’re throwing beer bottles until we play the right song. We’re sixteen, we shouldn’t even _be_ in a bar!”

Archie’s shoulders sag in a way that asks _are you serious_? “It’s a gig. Do you not want to to do this anymore?”

“I do, I just—“

“Then help me come up with a set list. This is going to be awesome,” Archie grins, and Jughead doesn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Betty notices is a giant stripper pole on the stage. The next are the occupied snake cages casually resting on the bar and pool tables.

Kevin takes the words right out of her mouth. “We are all going to die.”

“Nah, it’s just…themed, right?” Archie moves forward, Jason and Polly quickly following suit. Jason’s eyes take in every detail of the bar as if he’s trying to account for how much everything is worth. He’s shrewd, less brazen than Cheryl, who would inevitably be commenting on the sticky floors not being worthy of her Blossom Loubotins. As long as Polly’s at Jason’s side, her eyes remain wide and pleasantly curious, like they’re at some kind of art gallery and the dingy posters are frescos.

Betty’s nails dig into Veronica’s arm. “Are we supposed to dance on _that_?”

The brunette gazes up at the pole, unimpressed. “I _guess._ ” But her friend is distracted, looking around the entire venue for a trace of a hint about Hermione’s dealings. “So this is what the Serpent hideout looks like.”

“What?” Betty breathes, clinging to her a little tighter. It’s not as if the giant snake insignias everywhere weren’t a hint, but why would Kevin agree to get them a gig at a gang hideaway if his father’s the sheriff?!

Even Kevin instinctively sticks closer to the group than he normally would. “I’m staying with you girls. They wouldn’t hit a guy with women, right?”

Veronica’s eyebrows challenge the statement, but she moves forward to give them a boost of confidence. They’re just in time to hear Archie tell a tall, scraggly-looking man with a beard, “I’m Archie Andrews, and this is my band,” Jason’s sharp gaze goes unnoticed. “We’re supposed to play for you all tonight.”

“Oh yeah. Tall Boy. Boss says you can set up on that stage there,” the man gestures, as if it’s not obvious. “Also, boss says if you’re terrible we can cut the set to twenty. I’ll flicker the lights if that’s the case.”

“Thanks,” Archie responds hesitantly, turning to the stage with the entourage hot on his heels.

“What kind of a name is Tall Boy?” Veronica whispers to her friends.

“A descriptive one,” Kevin adds, calming down as he spots his hottie in the back.

“Um, what about Jughead?” Betty asks.

Kevin tilts his neck, contemplative. “His head seems normal-shaped.”

“No,” the blonde half-smiles. “I meant, where is he? He hasn’t answered any of my texts. He’s been acting weird all week.”

“Maybe because he’s in _looove_ ,” Veronica teases, batting her eyelashes. Betty can’t help a smile, even as she smacks her friend.

“But if he _was_ …why wouldn’t he talk to me in private? I mean, we had to split up to learn more songs that way, but I’ve barely even seen him.”

The only reason she hadn’t gone insane this week trying to figure out what was happening is because she’s really been too busy. Jason’s party is this weekend, she’s been helping Kevin edit the promotional footage for their band, and every single second not spent on homework or clubs has been spent perfecting their set list, learning new instruments and songs. 

Jughead and her had barely been able to get away with more than a few hugs in between rehearsal, although they did briefly hold hands on the way to English. They both agreed to give Archie a few days to recover from the whole Val thing before shaking up their dynamics. For days Betty saturated herself on rereading the comments and likes of the videos and photos of them together on the band website.

The flood of uncertainly is finally catching up to her. What if he _doesn’t_ like her that way and it was just a weird experiment? What if he’s just using this to write songs? What if he quits the band to avoid her? Are they even going to the party _together_ or just at the same time?

Kevin steps in, the voice of reason. “None of us have seen _anybody_ the past week. I’ve barely even had time for my nightly runs. Besides, I thought Joaquin and I were getting somewhere.”

“Somewhere exclusive?” Veronica quirks an eyebrow.

“If you must know, _yes_. But clearly that’s not going anywhere.”

The concern on Betty’s face almost amuses her friends. “Why not?”

“He’s a _Serpent_. Can you imagine my father’s coronary if I show up at family dinner with a gang member?”

Veronica seems unconvinced. “He was wearing the jacket when you met him. It’s not like he’s hiding anything from you. Besides, he’s what? 17? He’s Serpent-light. A baby. Junior Serpent. I’ll bet he’s not doing anything really bad yet.”

“Oh, what that boy can do is positively _sinful._ ” The wistful look on his face makes Betty laugh, Veronica roll her eyes.

“Come on, lover boy. We have a set to do.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Betty emerges from the bathroom with Polly, Jughead’s already doing sound check with the others. Her heart stutters in her chest a little, and part of her wants to leap up on the stage and pull him into an embrace. When she’d liked Archie, she just wanted to _hover_ in his peripheral, which is definitely where she stayed as far as his attention went. With Jughead she craves something _more_ , to be front and center or nestled right in at his side. Twisting her ponytail to make sure the curl has held, she tries to step forward with as much pep as she can muster. After all, she’s blended purple into her eyeliner tonight.

Jughead visibly swallows as she approaches, but doesn’t offer more than a flicker of a gaze and smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She shifts, wiping her palms on her thighs. It’s not exactly the response she was hoping for. Veronica side-eyes the pair, readjusting the mic stand. Maybe Betty _should_ have kept the crush to herself, even if she did keep the kiss a secret. It might be less humiliating if he does ultimately reject her. “You ready for the set tonight?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I still think it’s a bad idea.”

He’s been trying to convince them to cancel all week, citing it wasn’t true to their _image_. Finally Jason’d given him an ultimatum, either play the biker bar or he’d call in a favor with a family friend and get _him_ to play bass for the night. “Weren’t you the one who claimed we needed to make money for you to stay? Or do you have some other reason?” Sometimes he was too shrewd for his own good. Betty felt like Jason’s icy gaze saw through people…maybe more than most. He saw how to hurt them, how to win them. Maybe that’s why his smiles are so startling, almost hypnotic. Jughead shut up on the subject after that and hasn’t really talked to any of them since.

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” she shrugs, although she certainly doesn’t feel as certain. The stripper pole still gives her the shivers. If it was just her and Veronica in the bar, maybe she’d give it a try…but with all these people? Adults? No. No way.

Scowling, Jughead turns away, gaze skittering across the back of the room. “Yeah. Right. I just want to get this evening over with.”

Feeling dismissed, Betty takes a shaky breath and joins her friends. It won’t do to have tears before a performance. Polly would just tell her to toughen up and Jug’s not worth it, but he _is_. She knows he is.

“Want me to step on him?” Veronica asks quietly, glaring at the surly boy. It’d probably be painful, given her current boots.

“No,” Betty murmurs, trying not appear as hurt as she is. “He’s probably just nervous.”

“Nervous I’m going to kick his ass? Because I will.”

Betty puts her hand over Veronica’s, trying to stabilize her angry readjustment of the mic stand. “Hey. Thank you for the sentiment, but really it’s okay. I can handle this myself. What can I do for _you_ , V?”

The brunette shivers just a little, almost visibly shifting gears to plot mode. “Well, if you must know…I kinda need to slip away during the set tonight. Apparently the guy my mom was talking to hangs out here, _obviously_ , and when he comes down for our set…I’m kinda hoping to break in to his office and see if there’s anything I can find.”

Betty’s grip tightens on her friend’s wrist. “What?! Are you crazy? This is a biker bar. A _biker gang_ bar. This is the home of the Sons of Anarchy and you want to break into their private office to see what you can find?”

“It’s the only way I can find out the truth.” Although Betty would rather use the dancer’s pole than endanger her friends, Veronica’s glassy-eyed determination fuels her own sense of truth and justice. She always did love a good mystery. What would Nancy Drew do?

“We’ll figure something out. But you have to be careful, V. These guys are dangerous. The _second_ you feel like you’re in danger, you _get out of there_.”

Blinking away any lingering misery, Veronica puts her shoulders back. “Please, as if there’s anything more dangerous than a Lodge.”

 

* * *

 

Jughead’s fingers feel like they’re going to cramp in a claw. He’s been clenching them all week, trying to crack them to release the inevitable tension wracking his entire body. Of _course_ the second he gets a _moment_ of ridiculous happiness the universe rains on his little parade. The band was doing great, the fundraiser was making tons of money, and the girl of his dreams made out with him, so it was about time the tornado of destruction known as his father would be dragged into it.

FP refused to cancel the booking, insisting, “I wanna see my boy play! I knew you’d have a fit if I showed up at your high school dance, so this is perfect. No one from your school has to know, and I get to show off to my friends how great my kid is.”

Yeah, never mind what his dad is to _him_.

An alcoholic, smooth-talking scumbag. Always pretending he wants better for Jug without actually putting actions behind it. A few days after his friends cleaned up the drive-in, his dad and his buddies just trashed it again. He’s so sick of it. So when the band wouldn’t listen to him, he shoved all his anger into his music. Even the presence of an overwhelmed Betty wasn’t able to pull him out of the funk. Just strumming the bass, brow furrowed, jaw tight, is what kept him together. Once or twice he’d allowed himself to soften for a Betty hug, to hold her hand and felt the liquid warmth of affection ease his tension. But she deserves better than some son of a Serpent, which is what her family will inevitably say when it all comes out. Even seeing her all dressed up for the concert is disconcerting, like it’s already tainting her, like his family taints everything else.

Archie sees FP in the Serpent jacket and shoots Jughead a look, but doesn’t comment on it yet. Something tightens in his throat. That’s coming later, Jughead’s sure of it. It’s only a matter of time before they all know. Thankfully Archie’s the only one who’s really _met_ his dad, although he’s sure Veronica’s hawk capabilities will recognize him for other reasons.

When Betty’s duet with Archie comes up, Jughead physically tries to resist looking at her, knowing his dad’s leaning against the back wall with a self-satisfied smirk. Of course it’s a love song, and of course she sounds fucking beautiful, those green doe eyes sparkling despite the dim bar lights. He tries to look when she’s turned, catch just a glimpse of her without the Serpents or his father noticing. This song isn’t angry, but it makes his heart thump hard along to the rhythm regardless. Vulnerable within the song, she turns to him. Longing pops like a paintball against his chest, marking him for the world to see.

“ _I'm too afraid to show_

_If it's coming over you_

_Like it's coming over me_

_I'm crashing like a tidal wave_

_That drags me out to sea_

_And I want to be with you_

_If you want to be with me_

_I'm crashing like a tidal wave_

_And I don't want to be_

_Stranded, stranded, stranded, stranded_ ”

It’s almost impossible to tear his eyes off of her now that he’s started. Not just because she’s heavenly (she _is)_ but because Archie’s sitting across from her singing just as forlornly, seeing Betty in a new light. Maybe he’s remembering how he deserted her on the football field, or Val leaving him behind at the drive-in. That’s a dangerous look in Archie’s eyes…that _I want someone_ , look, because that boy almost always gets what he wants. Jughead’s not the only one who’s been burying his problems in his music. Jughead’s had to listen to more than one of his friend’s post-breakup songs, and they’re all miserable. He hasn’t had the heart to tell him about him and Betty, but watching Archie gaze forlornly at the goddess next to him, Jughead has the overwhelming urge to knock his friend off the stool and swoop his girl into a kiss. But he can’t, not in front of all these people…these Serpents. His dad would never let him hear the end of it. So he clenches the bass a little harder and lets Betty sing to him when she wants to without turning away. And no, those are definitely _not_ tears prickling the back of his eyes.

Because he’s not going to _strand_ Betty…not like his mother stranded him with his father…not like his father does to him on the regular when he’s out late with his gang. Not even like Archie does when he forgets they’re supposed to meet. The question is…when is Betty going to abandon him for a new project, one with a higher chance of success?

* * *

They’re about three quarters of the way done with the set when Veronica sneaks off the stage, giving a pointed look in Betty’s direction. It’s a song where the girls aren’t really involved as much, so Jughead presumes it’s to use the washroom or something. He fades back into the oblivion of the song, tuning out the crowd until he notices that Betty’s trembling, and Jughead wants to know why. Someone’s heckling her, moving towards the stage.

“Hey Britney! Britney Spears! How ‘bout you show us some moves on that pole!” they holler. Jughead tries to make out if it’s a townie or a Serpent in the crowd, just so he can know whose tires to slash in the parking lot. Feeling protective, he moves closer to her, noting that Archie does the same on the other side.

To both of their surprise, when the heckler keeps it up, Betty hops down off the stage and moves past the obnoxious patron straight to the pool table.

“You want Britney Spears?” she asks over the song, eyes gone dark. Taking a deep breath, she plunges her hand into the snake cage, Jughead’s heart plummeting with it.

_Holy shit_.

It’s like the whole place visibly shudders. He’s about to jump off the stage to stop her when she carefully brings the snake out of its encampment, human Serpents already surrounding her with wide eyes. Everyone in the place is staring at the brazen blonde, watching as the snake coils in knots within her hand.

_Holy SHIT_.

They’re going to kill her. And him, because he will inevitably throw himself in front of her. And then the band will go down. And the place will burn to the ground.

The internal stampede of panic roars out any other thoughts when she puts the thing around her shoulders, like she’s literally Britney Spears at the VMAs.

What is she d _oing_?!

Betty manages to scoot off the edge of the pool table with her new curious friend perched lazily on her shoulders. He hears choruses of “What the fuck?” and he can’t blame them for echoing his internal thoughts. Most of the Serpents _love_ it, surprisingly enough, laughing into their nursed beers. Jughead shoots a glance at his father, who looks pleased as punch. He nods at his son like, “ _Looks like you found a good one._ ” Like that’s his Betty out there, dancing with a snake. She’s not some Britney Spears crazy dancer, she’s _Betty_ …his best friend. She’s _smart_. She’s _compassionate_. She works hard. She’s a great dancer and an even better friend…and all these people see is that she’s a hot piece of ass who tames animals with sheer determination. Of course they love her…but not the same way he does. He fears for her, wants to protect her from this. They just kind of hope the thing in her hands bites the north side princess.

“Yes, girl!” he hears through the crowd, and sees a pink-haired girl sliding through the din, filming the spectacle along with a few others. Groaning, he literally spins himself in a circle to avoid looking at his stupid friends or the awful audience. Why would anyone be encouraging this? At least Kevin has the good sense to look like he’s going to faint.

Betty flashes a look at the bartender, mouthing, “Is this okay?” as if she hasn’t already committed to it. Tall Boy looks at a smiling FP, shrugs and waves her off. Swallowing, she parts the crowd as she moves forward back to the stage. Snakey stays with her for the rest of the song, when she hops back down and places him gently back in the box. Veronica reappears, kisses her cheek in relief, checking to make sure she’s not bitten. Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, Jughead jealously feels like _he_ should be the one giving her the once-over.

 

* * *

 

“Great job, kids,” Tall Boy mutters, taking handfuls of cash from the register for their payout.

It could’ve been worse, Betty admits to herself. They played great, even with a bunch of scary gang members staring at them, more coming for the second half of the set once word of mouth spread. Even that pink-haired girl from the drive-in showed up. Snakey was a good sport about joining her while she needed a distraction to help Veronica sneak out of the office and get the creeps out of her face. Betty’s always liked animals…even reptiles. The only ones she still squeals at are the giant bugs she occasionally finds in the garage. She’s feeling so proud that she can’t feel the darkness practically radiating off of Jughead while he glowers behind the rest of the pack.

Veronica’s coming down off the high of getting away with whatever it is she did, and Archie’s throwing her a few more genuine smiles than she’s used to. He should be proud too. They _did it!_ They performed their first real gig…at a real bar. This money is a great start, now all her friends can stay together…even if Kevin has already taken off with his new beau.

Pleased, she turns to look at her sister. Instead, she finds herself under the scrutiny of Jason Blossom, his pale skin almost glowing under the neon bar. Uncertain, she flashes him a Cooper smile. This means as much to him as it does to Archie, doesn’t it? Polly finally shifts, acknowledging them with thinly veiled impatience. “So…are we heading back to your place?”

“Yeah. I’ll bring you and your sister to my place to get your phones, then I’ll take you on home.”

“Betty doesn’t need to come. She can get a ride with Archie and I’ll take her phone, that way you and I can stop at Sweetwater for a nightcap.”

“What? Pol—“ Betty interjects. Why wouldn’t she ride with them? But then the mild hint becomes glaringly obvious when Polly’s arm snakes around Jason’s waist. It’s more irritating than gross. Irritating partially because the person she wants to embrace is currently hashing out something in heated whispers with Archie.

“What are you two talking about?” She’s too familiar with both of them to be shy at this point.

Biting his lip, Archie throws a pointed look at his dark-haired friend. “You wanna tell her or should I?”

“Tell me what?” Betty veers into dangerously impertinent territory.

“Shut it, Archie,” Jughead grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just—my dad came to see the show.”

Brightening, she rubs his arm in support. “Juggie, that’s great!” Why hide it? It’s about time Mr. Jones showed some interest in his son’s activities.

“Yeah,” Archie intercedes. “It is. Especially because he pretty much runs the place.”

Blinking, she tries to catch on. “This place? The Wyrm?” Jughead looks strained, glaring at Archie before resignedly blushing in her general direction. “That’s great. Why didn’t you tell…us?” The words fall quietly off her lips, realization spilling over. Jughead’s dad is a Serpent. And by the looks of the guy watching them (the same one Tall Boy looked to for confirmation on the snake abduction), not just _a_ Serpent, but _the_ Serpent...leader…and also the same guy Hermione Lodge is somehow involved with.

Maybe that’s why he so was so vehemently against playing at the Wyrm.

“Jughead Jones, a Serpent prince?” Veronica interjects. It’s silly to think she could be left out of any conversation. Jughead looks like he simultaneously wants to sink into the floor and breathe fire.

“I…” Betty scrambles for words, still sort of processing it all. Her eyes flicker to his beanie…it’s kinda like a crown. The absurdity of the situation rattles her brain cells.

His voice is strained, nervous. “Betty?”

Before she can formulate a response, Jason and Polly reappear at her side.

Jason speaks with the ethereal authority he always does. He’s completely aware he’s barging in on a serious conversation but finds himself above the drama. “V, you’ve got a ride?”

“Smithers, as always,” Veronica practically curtsies.

“You're on drop-off duty for Andrews and Betty tonight. See you all at the party,” he shrugs, winding an arm around Polly’s shoulders before escaping the bar for whatever pseudo-romantic romp they have planned. Of course he doesn’t bother asking about Jughead’s ride home. Wait—did Jason overhear about Jughead’s dad?

“So...should we wait outside and talk about our new revelations?” Veronica asks, trying not to squirm under the watchful gaze of Mr. Jones.

“I don’t think we should talk about it here, to be honest. Jug, are you going home with your dad?”

The hesitation in his eyes worries her. What else is there to hide from her? Does he do drugs? No, he’d never risk his brain like that, right? Jughead’s answer doesn't seem like a lie. “No, probably not.”

“Um, so why don’t we all head to Pop's for a nightcap?” It's almost impossible for Jughead to turn down the opportunity for food, and it might be good for them all to talk about what's happening with the band.

The boys glower at each other with uncertainty. “I guess Pop’s is all right,” Jughead finally replies. Maybe he’s good at the whole nonverbal thing with everyone. It’s probably the writer in him. Betty blinks at him a little pointedly, hoping he gets the message that _it’ll be all right._

* * *

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys. I just...didn't want it to get weird," Jughead sighs, tugging down his beanie amidst the clink of fresh plates and milkshakes. "It's not like my dad and I are very close these days."

Betty's hands automatically reach for his, caressing him across the booth. It's so natural at this point that Archie doesn't even notice, asking, "So are you a Serpent? Do you know what he's doing with Mrs. Lodge?"

"No. I'm not a Serpent, and I never will be," he answers decisively, eyes fixed on Betty. She nods, those green eyes alert and determined to be on his side. It's almost unnerving, having someone besides Archie so resolutely ready to stand up for him...someone so soft who's ready to encase herself in steel to protect him.

The youngest Lodge shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and if Jughead didn't know any better he'd say she looks _guilty_.

"Um...I might have found something...implying that my father, via my mother, is paying off the Serpents to help him with some property acquisition."

"What?" they chorus, Betty clarifying, "What does that mean?"

"If I had to guess, he wants them to lower the value by whatever means so he can swoop in and claim it as his evil lair."

"The drive-in?" Jughead scoffs. "What would your dad want with an old movie theater?"

"To tear it down and build an empire. I don't know!" she huffs, tossing her hands in the air. Betty lets one hand stray from Jughead to soothe her friend's shoulder. The loss of her warmth causes an unruly amount of tension, but then her foot gently presses against his leg and he knows that she's still here for him too. "Being a Lodge is complicated...especially when it comes to my father."

"Well...what do we do?" Betty asks aloud, her hair skidding along her shoulders as she turns to her friends in turn. Jughead can practically hear the problem-solving clack of her brain at work. "We can't just let Jughead lose the drive-in and his father to this." The tenderness in her voice feels like it's flooding his chest, filling every hollow part of him. "What if we hired some of the Serpents as sort of a tech crew for our bigger events? Do you think they'd stop taking Hiram's money?"

"And dealing drugs, beating people up?" Archie adds hopefully. Oh these sweet, innocent friends of his.

Thankfully Veronica's got this one on tap. "You guys are cute, but there's no way we can afford to pay a bunch of gangsters what my dad is offering, not to mention how much they make in drug trades. I think that's one area Daddy's managed to stay out of." Normally Jughead would make a comment on the  _daddy_ thing, but she looks dejected enough as it is.

"Well," Betty bites her lip thoughtfully. Jughead's thumb traces her palms. Something hard and calloused breaks up its silky smoothness, but he doesn't want to interrupt her while she's thinking. "Maybe Jug can talk to his dad, tell him how much the drive-in means to him. And V, you could...talk...write...whatever, to your mom and dad. I can go with you." At their disbelieving chuckles, Betty sighs. "Or...we can just focus on Jason's party and figure out where to go from there."

"It sucks being sixteen and broke," Jughead sighs.

The big jock next to him nudges his shoulder reassuringly. "Maybe we'll hit it big with one of our singles. Then we can buy the drive-in and hire your dad and...I don't know, buy apartments in New York where we can work on our music without family drama."

"Oh, Archibald," Jughead smiles despite himself. "You are so young. So naiive."

They eat in relative complacency, shifting topics to Jason's party and the costume requirement. He is not partaking.

"Why not? It could be so easy, Jug! I'll help you," Betty reassures him with a hand squeeze.

Although her optimism is endearing, Halloween just feels like another opportunity to get the trailer egged or have to avoid Reggie and his goons. "I'm good being my normal version of weird. Flannel. Say I'm a lumberjack or something."

"Why not throw the Donnie Darko thing in their faces and just wear like a skeleton hoodie?" Veronica asks, spooning a bit of milkshake (why not slurp it?).

He shakes his head in a grimace, but before he can refute Betty's feet anxiously tap at his shins. "Yes! Oh my gosh, Jug, I could help you. We could grab one at the store or I can help you make one with spray paint." He opens his mouth to protest again, but she squeezes his hand warningly. "And before you say no, keep in mind that John Entwistle, bassist of The Who, wore one just for a regular concert. If that's not rock and roll I don't know what is."

When she puts it like that...and it's not even like it would cost that much. She'd probably insist on paying, too. Leaning back, he pretends to consider. "Well...does that mean Archie's going to wear the AC/DC schoolboy uniform? Because I have to say, you'd look  _great_ in those shorts."

Archie's contagious laughter fills the booth and possibly the entire diner. Wiping his eyes, Archie looks down at the table with just a hint of bemusement. "Are you two going to hold hands all night or what? Jughead does need his hands to eat, Betty."

The observation shoots through his arm like lightening, contracting his grip on Betty's hand. Ah, shit. They still haven't told him yet. She looks at him, waiting for a signal. Archie does seem to be in a better mood lately...but should they tell them in private first? Betty starts to remove her hand, but the hurt flickering across her face is enough to make Jughead clear his throat of french fries, grip tighter, and announce, "Actually, I really like holding Betty's hand." His best friend (actually secondary best friend now that he thinks about it) quirks an eyebrow at them, glancing furtively between the two. "It's much less clammy than yours." Okay, he can't resist the joke, or Archie's laughter. Veronica steels him with a glance like _this is serious_ , but Betty's tight-lipped smile makes him think that maybe Veronica doesn't know  _everything_. He clears his throat again, aware of the way Archie's kind of got that curious puppy-in-the-rain face brewing. "To be honest, Betty and I had..."

A moment? That seems so trivial, so uninspiring when it comes to what actually passed between them, what passes through them every day. Veronica's leaning forward and clutching her spoon so hard he thinks it might snap. Betty's expression is much softer, like she understands how hard this is. And she should. Archie's been the bestie tether between them for a while, and now they've got to tell him that one side of that triangle is now significantly more entangled than the other. Stronger.

"A strong connection the other night," he finishes, trying not to rush into the memory of his lips against hers.

"You guys have a strong connection all the time," Veronica adds, still watching him like a hawk.

He shoots her a look that says _not like this, not just like pals._ It's more like little prickles of electricity around his skin tethering him to this other person. Inside jokes, an instantaneous draw to share things the other likes...to touch her. But he doesn't like to think of it like some permanent state of uncontrollable urges to  _be_ with someone. That's too...disingenuous.

Archie chuckles a little disbelievingly, trying to get in on some nonexistent joke. "So...you two are gonna what? Date? I mean, you don't _date_ , Jug."

Unable to smother the frustrated groan, Jughead plops a french fry onto his plate. It's not like he's never  _thought_ about it...or talked about it with Archie. "Just because I don't have the same sex drive as you doesn't mean I'm celibate. And neither is Betty." The redhead next to him is startled, although he really shouldn't be. The day would come when Jughead's hormones kicked in the same as everyone else, and Betty-wonderful, smart Betty was not going to pine around for Archie until the end of time. Surely he has to know that. 

"But...Betty-" Archie pleads, and if he tries to woo her back Jughead  _will_ fight for her. The overwhelming thought's silenced by Betty's firm interruption.

"We like each other. A lot." Jughead has to swallow, feeling like he's pinned by those swirling green eyes and pink lips. "More than friends." There's the reassuring squeeze. "A lot more than friends, really," her voice softens, and she picks at his hands with her fingers, tracing his knuckles there. The minor confession makes him want to order milkshakes for the whole place, to feast on all there is to be had. To taste and swallow and savor this moment. Jughead decides to make a statement and brings her knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. Giggling under a blush, she looks _perfect_ to him, and he really just wants to write her a song. Something stupidly sappy about strawberries and milkshakes and being in love.

"Wow. Romantic, Jug," Veronica admits, smiling slyly at her friend. "Guess we'll have to let these lovebirds sit next to each other on our next outing, huh Arch?"

"What?" Archie asks, still feeling defensive, grasping at the new information. Jughead knows this requires his friend to reframe not one but  _two_ of his childhood best friends in his mind, so he'll try to be lenient. "I mean, yeah, I guess." Brow furrowed, he takes a second, deciding to smile for them. "Does this mean you can get Jug to listen to more of my original love songs?"

Jughead laughs. "Count your blessings. You're lucky she was able to get me to dance."

They fade into laughter and easy conversation, and besides the added comfort of Betty's hand in his own, things feel _normal_. _Good,_ which maybe isn't all that normal for him, but right now it feels like it could be. Jughead notes that Veronica lays a reassuring hand on Archie's arm once in a while so he doesn't feel quite so left out of the affection game, and that seems to raise his spirits. Most of the night Jughead's just so grateful to be tethered to Betty...that even with his family, she wants to be by him...and so do the rest of them. When Veronica pulls up between the Andrew and Cooper houses, Archie turns to him and asks, "Hey, you wanna stay over? Your last night as a free man before Betty makes you her boyfriend or whatever?"

"It's not a prison sentence!" Betty chides, smacking Archie's shoulder. But the thought still brings a secretive grin to both of their faces. Could he be Betty's  _boyfriend?_ Like, _already?_ It's exciting in a way that makes him want to spend the night in Archie's room gazing across at the girl next door.

The alternative is either spending an awkward car ride back to the drive-in to get what he presumes will be THE TALK from Veronica or walking back to the trailer to get grilled by his dad. "Yeah," he decides. "Your house has the better view."

"Oh, gross. You're gonna turn into a sap on me," Archie groans, teasing.

"Goodnight lovelies. Take care of my Betty now," Veronica smiles, shutting herself in the car. Jughead knows the girls would love to have a sleepover, stay up all night talking about the kiss or the gig or whatever, but Alice seems to loathe every single on of Betty's friends with the odd exception of Kevin.

"Um, I'm just going to walk Betty to her door," Jughead says awkwardly, wiping his palms on his jeans so they're not sweaty when he takes Betty's hand. Archie raises an eyebrow. Yeah, it's not a long walk. But he wants a second with her...just her. Archie takes the hint and goes just inside his door, calling out something about, "So this is how it's gonna be?"

Grinning, he tightens Betty's hand in his own and excruciatingly slowly makes the trek to the Cooper front door. "So," she smiles, voice warm. Something flutters in his chest...is this the feeling people get when walking with a loved one? Er, a girlfriend? Is she his girlfriend? "That wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

"The gig or the telling Archie bit?"

"Both," she giggles, shoulder rising. His insides feel like they're warming with steam, affection condensing on his skin.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't recommend the snake bit again," he sighs, thumb brushing over hers.

"Oh, but it was my  _moment_ , my moment of infamy! All musicians need one. It was either that or the stripper pole."

"You chose wisely. To be fair I would've had a heart attack either way." Chewing his lip, he wonders just how sassy he can be with her when they're still new. "Although I will say our little rendezvous in the projection room is my preferred method of teenage bad behavior."

A little coy, she turns to him. "Does it always have to be in the projection room?"

"No," he admits slyly, aware that they're... _flirting_ , like actually flirting. He encircles her with his arms until their hips are flush. The closeness brings a little color to her cheeks, a brightness in her eyes.

Looking up at him from beneath those impossibly long lashes, she wraps her arms around his neck. "Oh? What else do you recommend, oh wise one?"

"I hear goodnight kisses on your front porch can be considered very bold behavior in some circles," he breathes against her, noses brushing ever so slightly. Their lips are so close that he can feel her smile.

"Juggie...those must be some pretty tame circles."

"Well, let me show you."

His lips close over hers, the instant hotness pulling out a moan. He isn't even sure if it's him or her because his hands are wandering along her back in the attempt to mold them as close together as possible. Every time she moves her lips he can't believe that she really wants more of him. They're about to ramp it up to PG-13 tongue action when a noise from inside startles them apart.

"I-I have to get going, Juggie. But thank you. I'll come over tomorrow to help with your costume, okay?"

"Yeah," he pants, mirroring the way her tongue licks her lips. "Until tomorrow."

It's not a bad band name. Or song name. Or something. He watches Betty disappear back into her house, the voice of Alice Cooper clear as day. He better head back to Archie's before she decides to peek out the window or something. Still, he thinks, hands stuffed into his pockets, overall it wasn't a bad day. He'd just have to survive Jason's party, and even that couldn't be worse than the Serpent bar, right?

* * *

 

Songs this chapter:

Stranded

[Plumb](https://www.google.com/search?q=Plumb&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAONgVuLSz9U3MMzKKCnIAQDbDTcIDgAAAA&sa=X&sqi=2&ved=2ahUKEwj1m-X_w9TcAhUFv48KHWFEAakQMTAAegQIBxAF)

You know it only breaks my heart  
To see you standing in the dark alone  
Waiting there for me to come back  
I'm too afraid to show

If it's coming over you   
Like it's coming over me  
I'm crashing like a tidal wave   
That drags me out to sea  
And I want to be with you  
You want to be with me  
I'm crashing like a tidal wave  
And I don't want to be  
Stranded, stranded, stranded, stranded

I can only take so much  
These tears are turning me to rust  
And I know you're waiting there for me  
To come back  
I'm too afraid to show

If it's coming over you   
Like it's coming over me  
I'm crashing like a tidal wave   
That drags me out to sea  
And I want to be with you  
You want to be with me  
I'm crashing like a tidal wave  
And I don't want to be  
Stranded, stranded, stranded, stranded

I miss you, I need you  
Without you I'm stranded  
I love you so come back  
I'm not afraid to show

If it's coming over you   
Like it's coming over me  
I'm crashing like a tidal wave   
That drags me out to sea  
And I want to be with you  
You want to be with me  
I'm crashing like a tidal wave  
And I don't want to be  
Stranded, stranded, stranded, stranded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betty knows it'd be too much of a lawsuit issue if actual dangerous snakes were out on the counter, hence her Britney Spears moment. Veronica needs a distraction? She will HAVE IT! Also Toni is kind of unofficially their superfan and although she's disappointed Cheryl wasn't there, she was distracted enough by the other hotties in the band and you can bet she's taking photos. Joaquin was sort of coerced by FP to offer the Wyrm as a gig spot so he could see Jughead play up close and personal. In this fic FP means well, he's just respecting his son's space while totally prying at the same time.
> 
> I struggle sometimes to write Polly and Jason, because they clearly care to SOME extent about their siblings, but Polly's just kinda like, "Oh Betty has this this and this so she'll be fine byeeee" whereas Jason won't step in until things get out of hand. He's enigmatically predatory to some extent. He almost can't help himself from finding people's weak spots because he's so used to that being his family's go-to and survival instinct. Polly tends not to back down at anyone's prodding so he enjoys just being with her and not having to worry about hurting her feelings or if she's using him (because he's using heeer what? no he totally likes her but he's also a scumbag who wrote the playbook so...that may come up next chapter -cough-). What do you think? Oh and give me ideas for Halloween costumes because so far I only have a few haha. ALSO. DID YOU SEE. THE SPROUSEHART BIRTHDAY POST TODAY? "My love!" I squealed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blossom Halloween party has some tricks and treats for the band. Veronica's producer friend shares some interesting news. Jason and the Bulldogs appear to be sharing more than game plays. Betty's going to share some very powerful feelings about THAT...and her cute boyfriend Jughead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a little longer to write than most (not only because it IS longer) because tbh I think the playbook is hard to accept as canon, and yet it's weirdly realistic. Plus I wanted to flesh out some of the other relationships a bit more. Hope you enjoy!

The rattle and hiss of a spray can have never seemed so magical as when Jughead conducts them, ready to create his masterpiece. With a few confident, easy strokes, he’s done, outlined the skeletal ribcage with shading and everything. She must be pouting, because he laughs and asks, “What’s wrong, Betts? I thought you wanted me to defile the hoodie.”

“I do,” she recovers, fingers twisting over the printouts she’d barely been able to remove from her bag of supplies. “I just…brought references.” Archie’s laughter peals across the garage. Cheeks flaming, she stuffs the papers away from their unappreciative sight.

“Your over-preparedness is endearing, but I _have_ seen a skeleton before.” At her wide-eyed expression, Jughead tries to contain a smile. “The science room? Mr. Bones?”

Pursing her lips, she shoves the sealant spray in his direction. “This is if you want it to stay after the first wash.”

“What do you think, Archie?” Jug asks over his shoulder, and Betty’s under the impression they’re both making extra effort to include him now that they’re dating, just in _case_ he feels left out.

“I think it’s cool. What do you think of mine, huh?”

Betty hides a smile behind her hand, hoping Archie doesn’t think she’s making fun of him. She can’t _believe_ Fred and Archie got behind the whole Angus Young AC/DC outfit: schoolboy shorts, white socks, white shirt, tie, and of course a blazer.

“I’m just glad you forewent the Axl Rose route,” Jughead comments dryly, and Betty shuts her eyes against the unwanted mental picture of Archie without pants. They chuckle at her moan.

To distract them, she sighs and admits, “You look great, Arch. Very schoolboy rock charm.”

Jughead eyes her, faux-wary, like _should I be jealous_? But obviously the answer is no. 

Excited, Archie shimmies back out of the jacket. “We should’ve all gone as AC/DC people. Jughead, you could’ve been Slash with the hat and glasses and everything.”

“There aren’t any _girls_ in AC/DC,” Betty reminds him. “And in case you’re forgotten, we have _three_.”

“Aw, yeah,” Archie muses aloud, as if this is a new detail. “So what are you girls going as for the musical theme?”

Taking a shaky breath, Betty recites dutifully, “Well, Polly’s going as Madonna, but her outfit’s borderline Cyndi Lauper so please don’t say anything. V _was_ going to do the groom outfit Madonna wore at the VMAs but now that Polly’s got the dress going on…she’s somewhere between Beyonce and some kind of Lady Gaga art piece.”

“What do you think it’ll be?” Jughead asks, slightly amused as he coats his hoodie in sealant spray.

“I think it depends on her mood. I asked her not to wear the meat dress,” she adds, noting the way Jughead’s eyes widen.

“Why? Were you planning on saving that for yourself? Yet another way to seduce your man?”

“No,” she scowls, still fumbling with the plastic bag, unaware if she should disappear back to the house and leave the boys to the inevitable shenanigans they’re going to get into. Archie’s already playing at air guitar, jumping and kicking off the couch to test mobility. “Trust me, I listened to the Pussycats fight over the Single Ladies vibe with Veronica for too long to bother fighting with anyone over an _outfit_.”

At the mention of the Pussycats, Archie stands to attention. She can already tell he’s wondering if Val will show up to the party.

“So what are you going as?” Jughead’s focused interest makes her uneasy, especially because she hasn’t exactly confirmed if she can pull her costume off.

“I’m um…I’m undecided.”

“The party is tonight,” Archie frowns, as if she doesn’t _know_ that, as if she’s not normally 1000% prepared.

“I’m just kind of torn between punk and pop.”

Jughead pries her picking fingers apart, slipping in easily as if that’s where his hand is always supposed to be. “Well no matter what, you’re a princess to me.”

Awing, she leans forward and gives him a little kiss, enjoying the way he smiles against her.

“Gross. Get a room,” Archie complains. “At least until I’ve had a few beers or days to get used to my two best friends…”

“Fine. Archie, do you have an extra red tie? Just in case. It’s part of one of my costumes,” she blushes, trying not to reveal anything.

Jughead squeezes her hand curiously but doesn’t pry, even as Archie unwraps the one around his neck. “No, but you can have this one if you want.”

“No, I couldn’t take away from an integral part of your costume. I’ll…let you boys play. Polly and I are going early so we can help set up.”

“So helpful,” Jughead praises theatrically.

“You’re welcome,” she says firmly, giving him one more kiss on the cheek and blowing one to Archie. Jughead’s still got a goofy grin on his face by the time she leaves, and that little glow of confidence is enough for now.

 

* * *

 

 

Betty feels like a Frankenstein of her own creation, and ode to her friends and to music. Her dark grey graphic tee is a throwback to Jughead (she would’ve borrowed his, but Polly argued it would be too big on her). She’s wearing Kevin’s wrist guards, Polly’s old high-tops, Veronica’s plaid pleated skirt, and a set of stud earrings from Archie. Even Jason offered her one of his red striped ties to wear. Her knee-high socks are thanks to the Vixens, so she can at least claim Cheryl is in there too if pressed. The temporary vibrant pink highlights in her hair are just for her.

“Avril Lavigne?” Veronica quirks an eyebrow, looking surprisingly bored despite her shockingly blue cutout spandex outfit. Apparently Lady Gaga’s Pokerface outfit had won out after all.

“What do you think?” Betty spreads the plaid skirt so Veronica can see it in full effect. “Thanks for the skirt. I think it—“

Veronica waves a blue glove-covered hand. “Keep it. Besides accentuating your babe status, it’d probably just get repossessed at my house.”

Disappointment sinks Betty’s enthusiasm. “Are things still that bad? I thought after the fundraiser—“

“Daddy froze our assets when he found out about Fred Andrews, so we’re basically screwed by the HOA fees in another couple of months. I tried talking to Mom about the Serpents and the drive-in, which resulted in a very stirring rendition of her favorite monologue: _this is for your family, mija_. Dad had the nerve—the _nerve_ —to ask me if I’d be a character reference! I’ll _reference_ his total indifference for his own family…and all of humanity.” The fuming brunette nearly takes out a fake cobweb in the hallway, so Betty quickly steers her friend to a safer space.

“I’m so sorry, V. Are you okay to perform tonight? Maybe we should—“

“No,” Veronica demands, nostrils flaring. “I came here to forget about that traitor. And what better way to act out than wear spandex and sing about kissing boys?”

“Um…” Betty may not be the authority on acting out. The worst she’s done is these temporary highlights, dancing sexily on a pool table whilst fully-clothed to help her friend. Of course her sister may have a better idea, considering she’s been lying to her parents about dating Jason for almost the past _six months_. Right now her family thinks this is a scholarship project and that Jason and Polly are just close friends, often paired together because of their age. Their father had almost had a conniption fit at just the _hint_ of more.

An hour later, Betty’s perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, figuring it’s the easiest place to spot Jughead since he’s always on the lookout for _food_. After karaoke with V, she wants to save her voice. Of course Veronica does not share that sentiment and is busy getting rowdy dancing with some of the partygoers.

Someone she can only describe as _smarmy_ waggles up to the counter. “Hey. You’re that girl from the band, the blonde hottie with the thing for snakes,” the curly-haired brunette smirks, taking a long sip of something reddish-brown. Betty smiles at him like, _do I know you?_ , unsure if the recognition is welcome or not. “Nick St. Claire, one of Veronica’s old school chums,” he offers over the noise. “She said I should come check you guys out, and she was right.”

“Oh, thank you! Although, wouldn’t you be able to check us out online?” she asks, wishing her hair was up in its usual ponytail so she didn’t have the urge to hide behind it.

“Trust me when I say the experience is even better in person. Besides, my dad—“

“Nick?” Veronica asks loudly from the other room. When he turns and offers her a lopsided smirk she goes into full-blown relief and wraps him in a tight hug. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you came!”

“Trust me, I’m missing all the fabulous parties in New York to listen to the best band on the East Coast and I couldn’t be happier about it. As long as you ladies offer to dance with me of course.”

“Nick, you big flirt,” Veronica scolds, slapping his chest. “You are here to find your next big band, catch up with one of your oldest friends—”

“And get wasted,” he adds, glass clinking as if it’s a toast.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” she giggles, leading him out into the party. Betty stays seated on the counter, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. A few other people try to talk to her, take her picture, one guy even tries to carry her off of the counter to the dance floor.

“How many points for this one, Jason?” he calls into the crowd, earning hoots and hollers.

Squirming, she manages to hop out of his arms, heart pounding in her ears. Just as she’s about to panic, find someplace to hide, she feels a soft hand on her shoulder.

Relieved, she turns, hoping to find Jughead. Instead she’s face to face with a very made-up David Bowie/Jason. “You okay?” he asks, blue lightning on his face distracting yet beautiful.

She glances around for Polly, but it’s impossible to make her out in this growing crowd. “Have you heard from the boys? They’re usually not this late and some random guy hauled me off to the dance floor and demanding I get ranked in some misogynistic—“ she cuts off, realizing that the boy had specifically called for _Jason_. “Do you know him?”

His lip quirks in something like a smile, but she can read the anxiety in his blue eyes. With a start, she realizes he even went for using one green contact to emulate Bowie a step further. “There are a lot of Jason’s, Betty.”

“Not in Riverdale.”

Jason shakes his head, as if she’s too young to understand. “Let’s find Kev or Polly so you have someone to hang with before some other Bulldog tries to earn his mark.”

Betty follows him through the crowd, hand on his shoulder, wishing she had Jughead’s hand instead, like last time. What kind of weirdness was going on with the Bulldogs? Were they _ranking_ women? With idiots like Chuck, Reggie, and even _Moose_ on the team, there’s no telling what kind of stupid locker room talk goes on. But Archie? Does he know about this?

Before they’re able to get too far, someone asks Jason for more chips. Sighing, he detours to the kitchen. “Cheryl _promised_ her friends would help tonight,” he growls, just loud enough that Betty’s able to hear him. She hasn’t seen much of the evil one or her posse since the guests have arrived.

“It’s really great to see so much support tonight. V says the website’s been getting a ton of traffic with our new gigs.” He says nothing, wrenching through a few cabinets. “The fundraisers have been doing well,” she finds herself babbling, teeth practically chattering as he finds a few spare bags of snacks. “V thinks we’re going to have t-shirts in the next couple of weeks, maybe a few actual music videos.”

“Yeah, assuming her producer friend likes us,” he adds, sending her a little off balance.

“Sorry, what?”

“St. Claire? His dad’s a producer. I guess tonight is sort of his preliminary round to see if he likes what he sees.”

“Don’t you mean what he hears?”

Jason’s bitter laugh doesn’t do much to reassure her. “Well if it doesn’t work out, Cheryl and I have been working on our parents to get a spot on the radio. Reggie might even want his dad’s dealership to use us for a promo.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yeah. Don’t tell the rest of the band until it’s for sure though. I just figured since you’re one of the people who really made all this happen, you’d want to know.”

Flabbergasted, she stares at Jason like he is an actual Star Man. Mind whirring, she excitedly pours the chips into the new bowls and sets them out, almost instantly being devoured by the crowd.

“Hey,” he snaps, pulling her back out of it. “Damn, we really need to find Polly.”

“You don’t have to babysit me,” she shuffles, embarrassed. Her sister and her boyfriend shouldn’t have to pull away just because she’s feeling a little intimidated by all these people. She’s so used to having her mother tap her chin to remind her to smile, straighten her posture, appear pleasant at all times. But this band thing has been giving her more confidence. “I can handle myself. I’m okay,” she says decidedly.

Jason doesn’t meet her gaze. “My sister says that all the time and she’s not. She can handle herself, but she shouldn’t have to. It makes her angry. No one should have to fight alone. Let me wave down Keller.”

Kevin’s dressed as Freddie Mercury in a bright yellow jacket and tailored white pants. She’s pretty sure the red stripe on the side is very fashionable duct tape, because there’s no way he would wear those in real life, but at least his outfit makes it easier to pick him out of the crowd. “Betty! Where’s your new beau?”

“Betty’s got a boyfriend?” Jason smiles, surprised and ravenous, looking around the party for the lucky victim. “Who is it? And why isn’t he here keeping you out of trouble so I don’t have to?”

“Oh, it’s—it’s Jughead,” Betty blushes, and almost instantly sees the excitement die out in Jason’s eyes. Loyalty flares up inside of her, wanting to protest at a simple facial reaction.

“Jughead?” he repeats, almost angrily disbelieving.

“Yeah. It’s new.” At his distant, sullen expression, Betty feels like she has to defend their bassist and quite possibly the best person she’s ever met. “He’s amazing.” Before she can get out more than that, Kevin wraps a protective arm around her.

“At ease, Jason. I’ve been Betty’s stand-in on more than one occasion. Besides, I want you to meet Joaquin.”

As Betty is swept away back into the crowd, she tries to work through the weirdness of this whole situation. What does Jason have against Jughead? Is it just that he’s poorer than the other members? She doesn’t _think_ he heard about his dad being a Serpent. What right does Jason have to look down on anybody?

The Blossom legacy is still a bright beacon in Riverdale’s success. She remembers Polly saying something about the Blossoms having their own weird set of expectations and decides to let it go long enough to meet Kevin’s boy. Joaquin has shoulder-length gorgeous dark hair and striking eyes. The whole gang member thing might normally make her a little nervous, but his soft smile encourages her to step out of her comfort zone. After all, he did help them book the Wyrm.

“Hi, I’m Betty.” Normally this would just be a handshake, but the way Kevin’s glowing, she decides to offer him a hug. She wants both of them to feel happy, accepted…not like Jughead probably feels around Jason Blossom. She doesn’t have a _ratings_ scale to figure if people are worth relationships or not.

 

* * *

 

“You’re late,” are pretty much the first words out of _everyone’s_ mouths when they make it to the party. Cheryl looks like she wants to skewer them, Jason roast them alive, Veronica shun them, and Kevin condescend until they’re pleading for mercy. Betty’s the only one who looks _relieved,_ almost like a mother who lost track of her kid in the store for a second and just got reunited.

There isn’t any time for much other than a one-armed hug and kiss on the cheek before hauling their things inside. Archie’s still shooting Jughead looks that alternate from worried to resentful. It’s insane how many people have crammed into the spacious estate. Kevin keeps taking quick photos during their setup until Cheryl finally snaps at him that there are _people_ for that.

Jughead doesn’t even have time for a drink (not that he’d take one) before they finish setting up in the back yard—the back _courtyard_. Some tall guy reeking of money pushes up to the front row by Cheryl’s side, and Veronica wobbles a little before winking at him. Jughead suppresses a sigh when Archie seems a bit wounded at that, especially since Val is chatting with the Pussycats inside instead of enjoying the show. Just last night he’d been making eyes at _Betty_ for crying out loud. The boy bounces around more than is good for him.

“Ready?” he asks, and Kevin counts them off.

The cold air nips at them as it gets later into their set, but people _love_ it. They do some of their normal set with the added addition of Halloween classics, the most haunting of which is “I Put on a Spell on You.” Despite Archie’s desire for the girls to dress up as the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus, the group actually goes more for the Screamin’ Jay Hawkins soulful, bawdry take on the song for the music, even if the performance lays somewhere on the spectrum of the Annie Lennox _50 Shades_ version. It’s not his imagination when Archie shoots him a glance during the opening, “You better stop the things you do / I tell ya I ain't lyin’ / I ain't lyin’.”

Oddly enough, Betty doesn’t notice the exchange. She’s normally the most emotionally perceptive of the bunch, but her eyes are curiously fixed on Jason Blossom. It certainly isn’t _longing_ on her face. It’s more than quiet consternation at his eerily accurate portrayal of David Bowie. Jughead’s having a hard time not staring at him too. But Betty’s working through something in her head, and Jughead really wants to know what it is. Later, of course. Later. Because as long as she's not focused on Archie and Jughead she won’t notice the weird tension and won’t ask about it.

The duets _haunt_ the audience, and Veronica seems to be belting out some personal issues with “ _You know better daddy, I can’t stand it ‘cause you put me down, Oh no_.” Her hand goes up in the air, pushing the notes forward, pushing her father’s influence away.

Betty watches her friend carefully, moving over to dance with her, swaying their hips, hypnotizing everyone who watches. Jughead wonders if this feeling will ever go away. This _awe_ at their power…their emotions. He wishes he could express himself that way, with just a dance, with just his voice. But all he has is this bass, so he channels as much as he can during the solos, transcending above the party, washing away with the song.

Her voice draws him back to the present, to the moment. “ _You know I love you, I love you, I love you anyhow_.” He’s tempted to close his eyes, drown out everyone else harmonizing and just let it be her lulling him with her beautiful voice. But watching her be so tender with a _clearly_ vulnerable Veronica makes something in his heart pulse for her.

Everyone’s getting emotional onstage…at a song nobody would really expect it. Tears streak down Veronica’s face. Archie’s brows furrow in consternation in what is no doubt a Val-flashback, “ _And I don’t care if you don’t want me, I’m yours right now._ ” Jughead doesn’t have time to worry about his best friend though, because even though Betty’s holding Veronica’s hand, her eyes are on him, hovering there.

_I’m yours right now_.

Aching fills his chest, and Jughead wants to shove his bass behind him and go to her, bury himself inside of her, make her arms his new home.

It’s the only one he’d have.

Archie found out about being homeless. It was a stupid mistake, really. Everything was going so well that Jughead didn’t even think about it when answering, “Yeah, right” when Archie asked if Jughead ever wanted to keep the bass at the trailer overnight. The lie that FP didn’t like music wasn’t going to hold up when Fred and FP had been in a band together when they were young, not to mention that FP had _definitely_ enjoyed the show the night before.

So it had to come out. His dad’s a drunk. Jug moved out. Archie knows he’s homeless…even if Jughead’s been trying to convince himself he’s just drifting since he does technically have the projection booth. The redhead argued with him for a while, as if this was some betrayal of their friendship instead of a very serious life event. Ever the hero, Archie insisted they go to the drive-in to get his stuff and move it in with Archie, Jughead protesting the whole way. Fred was surprised, but not _against_ the temporary solution to a very big problem.

And now the very big problem is trying to figure out how to tell Betty before Archie does.

Her breath curls out like smoke, her eyes darkening on him as she croons, “ _I put a spell on you, because you’re mine_.”

He wants to inhale whatever magic she expels, warm away the goosebumps he can spot on her flesh, slow dance with her into the night. He doesn’t want to be… _baggage_. Why can’t he just be her boyfriend?

 

* * *

 

“So, what’d you think?” Betty asks hopefully, still rubbing Veronica’s arm as producer-in-training Nick approaches them onstage. She tries not to notice the very heated discussion in the background where Archie seems to be freaking out about Val, Jughead quietly talking him down. Her arm-hair prickles, and it’s not entire from the cold.

Jason and Polly hang just within earshot, Cheryl fussing over Jason before being commanded back into the house.

Nick holds his arms out. “You are…amazing.” His eyes glisten a little as he takes in the girls. “Veronica, you were a little _emotive_ tonight. I’ve never seen that side of you.”

“Lucky you,” V shrugs, leaning heavily into her friend. Betty struggles under the new weight distribution but manages to keep them both upright.

“Well, I think it’s great. Not to mention this party is fabulous. Who knew maple farmers were so well off? Not to mention the company they keep.” The twinkle in his eye as he looks over them makes Betty decidedly uncomfortable, and she shifts Veronica again, wondering where the Blossoms keep their coffee.

Veronica straightens a little, pushing hair out of her glitter-bombed face to ask, “So daddy—your daddy, do you think he’ll be interested?”

“With my seal of approval, absolutely,” he smiles, taking another sip of whatever concoction was in the witch’s brew. “Of course I’m always liable to bribery and general buttering up.”

“What kind of butter are you thinking, Nicky?”

Before he can even get the words out, Veronica cuts him off.

“Oh, and Betty’s spoken for.” The brunette protectively wraps her arms around her bestie, almost squeezing to the point of it hurting.

“By you?” Nick chuckles.

“I should be so lucky,” Veronica grins good-naturedly. Betty giggles, readjusting her friend into a more comfortable hug. “So, what else?”

“Um…how about audience with that redhead creature? Cheryl? She seems delectable.”

_Creature?_ Betty almost snorts at that. Then she feels a cold dread settling over her abdomen. Nick St. Claire doesn’t _know_ Cheryl is evil. Although it’s sort of universally accepted that girls can objectify themselves, especially on Halloween, they’re _not_ _objects_. The whole thing reminds her of the earlier interaction with Jason and the Bulldog wanting a “number” for her. Maybe they shouldn’t be using this guy or his dad as a producer.

Without thinking, she glares at the potential investor. “Cheryl’s still a _person_ , even if it is Halloween.” At Veronica’s questioning eyebrow, Betty clarifies, “Some guy was trying to get Jason to rank me or something, and I just think it’s insensitive to treat people like they’re not human, like they’re just on a scale of 1-10.”

“Please, only undesirables think that way. You two’d be a perfect 10,” Nick winks. Veronica chuckles uneasily at Betty’s mildly disgusted reaction. She’s not _perfect._ Nowhere near it. Even Veronica isn’t, and she hates that Nick just wants to put them in that box, that expectation, that because they have Vixen bodies that means they’re a good investment. But according to Veronica, they need him. Nick raises the witch’s brew in contemplation and Betty notices his ostentatious rings for the first time. “Although I heard some football fellow gave you a 9, Veronica. Undersold you, in my opinion.”

“What?! Who did that?” Veronica protests.

“Some guy named Chuck I guess, although the guy who told me was some drunk loser named Moose. Can you imagine? They have a system,” Nick laughs, taking another gulp of his drink. “Breast size, good girl gone bad,” he casually moves his drink as if he’s sifting through the categories. “Oh and _apparently_ if it’s a girl none of the guys here have bagged before you get a _new girl_ bonus.”

“What the hell? I never slept with Chuck!” Veronica announces angrily, leaning towards Nick as if she’s going to knock him out.

“Don’t shoot the messenger!” he laughs, holding up his hands. “I’ve never found a need to write down my conquests for my friends to see, even if it would make up a lovely part of my memoirs.”

“They wrote it _down_?” Betty clarifies, anger intensifying.

“Some _playbook_ for the football team,” he rolls his eyes. “Guess that’s all they have to do out here. Keep track of their limited conquests and assign points to it. They mark it every time. God, how desperate can you be? Probably to compensate for the lack of variety in their lives.” As Nick takes another gulp of witch’s brew, Betty fantasizes dumping the rest of its contents over his head.

“Betty, while I wait for Veronica to get me audience with this _Cheryl_ , I want to hear what _you_ can do. You’re the only girl in the band who hasn’t been ranked in that book. I can only assume that means you aren’t banging a football player.”

_Polly,_ her heart clenches. Then, more angrily, _Jason_. Because it couldn’t be anyone else. She tries to push away her bubbling fury, but it’s getting harder to hear what Nick is saying when black foam is burning around the edges of her vision.

“What is he talking about, Jason?” she hears Polly ask in the background, Jason murmuring and leading her away. Betty desperately wants to follow them, but Nick clearly has other plans.

“When I saw you get on that pool table with the snake, my dick got hard. I mean that in a totally nonsexual way,” he covers, as if maintaining some sense of decorum. “Let’s be honest—people are going to watch the band because of what you and Veronica are bringing to the table. Sure, the guys are some nice eye candy for teen girls, but they’re going to want to _be_ you. Or _with_ you or something.”

“We’re just trying to make great music, inspire people.” Her voice comes out strained, even more so now that Veronica has stumbled away from her side and is probably on her way to murder a football player or fetch a giant witch.

“You seem like the kind of girl who’d haunt someone’s dreams.”

“Yeah. I can be a nightmare,” she frowns, torn between finding Chuck or Jason—helping Polly or Veronica. Regardless, she _doesn’t_ want to be stuck with Nick.

Veronica makes the choice for her, downing another shot on her way to the karaoke machine. That’s bad. Really bad.

 

* * *

 

“Archie—Archie no!” Jughead protests vainly, attempting to get in front of his friend before he chugs _another_ beer. They still have another set in half an hour and Archie seems to be making up for lost time.

“I think she just needs to talk to me. I mean, do you see the comments I get, Jughead? I’m desirable. I can’t help it if girls want to touch my body.”

“Yes,” Jughead attempts to suppress an eye roll. “Very desirable, Archie. But usually _girlfriends_ don’t like sharing their men’s bodies.”

“But it’s not her body. It’s mine,” Archie frowns, as if that makes it okay.

Squinting, Jughead’s not sure if Archie’s accessible by reason anymore, so he tries sarcasm. “Not everyone is quite so Big Love and open-minded. Come on, this is just a breakup. You’ve been interested in like five girls since then, most of whom you have a better chance with than Val right now.”

“You’re just saying that because you have Betty,” Archie scowls, pushing Jughead aside. “Try having someone break up with you and see how good _you_ handle it. It sucks. People just…they make you think they care about you and then they leave. Why you even…”

The words thunder across Jughead, raining down like blows to the chest. His own mother took his sister and moved halfway across the country, his father too drunk to deal with any of it. Jughead’s been alone for a _while_. Even some hypothetical universe of losing Betty hurts too much to imagine. She and Archie and the band are his life raft amidst this chaos.

Archie must have enough sense to recognize his faux-pas, because he stutters an apology almost immediately.

“Man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m—I don’t want you to be alone. You can have Betty. I mean, I don’t want you to _have_ Betty, she’s still my friend, but you know what I mean. I want you to be happy. I just need to talk to Val, I need to stop feeling this way. Jason has Polly, you have Betty. Who do I have?”

Quiet, Jughead finds it hard to look his friend in the eye. “You have us, pal. You’re drunk. Stop while you’re ahead. Come on, we have to play later.”

Shaking his head, Archie moves back into the crowd. “I need to find her.”

Jughead feels overwhelmed, internally echoing the sentiment for his own girl. Being with Betty is so much easier than _everything else._ He never thought it would be. In fact, it seemed pretty impossible sometimes. So did dancing. So did having a successful band. But she geared everyone up, she gave herself wholly, and she’s giving it to _him_. Sometimes he’s so grateful he wants to write her an entire album.

If Archie behaves, he’ll get a buddy ballad.

That redhead can be such a pain in the ass, and if he hadn’t just offered to let Jughead stay with him Jughead would probably be going off on him. But this is always his friend. Impulsive. All or nothing. He just hopes…he just hopes that nobody’s left with nothing. He knows nothing.

He doesn’t ever want to be there again.

 

* * *

 

Archie gets a cup of beer unceremoniously dumped on him after he insistently follows Val around for a few minutes, pining, “But _why_ _can’t we work it out_?”

“Shut _up_ , Archie! I broke up with you because you’re a sellout and a hot mess, and _clearly_ that hasn’t changed. You can’t just be what people want for them to like you. You just have to be yourself, and with what you’re offering—I am _not interested_.”

Pierced with a final, devastating, _soaking_ rejection, Archie retreats to the bathroom to lick his wounds.

Veronica, on the other hand, gets _drunk_ and _loud_ , announcing that she never touched Chuck’s penis, and if she did brush against it she didn’t notice because it was so small. It’s not her finest moment, nor her most pointed insult.

Stumbling, jabbing her finger in Chuck’s chest, Veronica looks like she’s going to burn him alive. “You’re a _liar_. Take it back.”

“Drunk slut is just upset she never got another taste,” Chuck gleans, sticking his chest out to meet her blows.

He’s _not_ expecting a hard slap from Betty Cooper. Stunned, his tongue prods his inner cheek for damage before even registering that the blonde is trying to get between them, dragging Veronica to relative safety.

“No. He’s a liar. You’re a _liar_! And a _fake!_ ” she protests, her fist breaking free to catch just the side of his jaw. “You _take it back you prick!_ ”

The Bulldogs ooh in sync, watching Chuck’s Kanye glasses skitter to the ground.

He holds one finger up in the air. “You did not…just hit me.”

“Yeah well I didn’t _fuck_ you either, you sick…ass! And I am way better than your scale,” she spits. “You wouldn’t know a quality woman if she slapped you in the face…which she did! Write _that_ in your playbook, you sick freaks!”

At the mention of the scale, the playbook, some of the football players panic, glancing at one another. As if a drunken angry ex wasn’t reason enough to feel uneasy. “What do you know about the playbook?” Chuck asks coldly, eyes narrowing on the girls before him.

“All of you should be ashamed of yourselves,” Betty declares with an acidity that has the rest of the crew that hadn’t bailed during Veronica’s outburst retreating to a safe corner to watch the drama unfold. “Not only are you lying, you’re dehumanizing people. How dare you relegate someone to a number? Is that all you are? Worth less than the number on your jerseys?”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Chuck steps forward. “Oh, blondie’s got some fight in her. What’s wrong? You sad you missed out on a number, Betty, since Archie’d never screw you? Or are you a tease, just like your sister?”

This time he’s expecting the slap and grabs her forearm, twisting it. The ensuing struggle moves like a wave of panic in the party. _Girls_ don’t get hurt by hulking football players. Not physically, anyway. They just cry out whatever pain they have in the secrecy of their bedrooms until it hurts enough like the physical part is real. They, on the other hand, expect to get slapped by jilted lovers, endure the brief sting of anger. It’s better than dealing with their own.

Besides, nobody else was supposed to know.

Chuck doesn’t let go easily, and it takes four guys to pry his bruising grip off of Betty, one last shove between them. Undaunted, flushed, Betty allows herself to be herded away by Kevin and Joaquin, two of the guys who’d run to the scene to help. 

“What were you _thinking_?” Kevin hisses to the girls.

“That Chuck Clayton’s an ass.” Veronica wipes her face angrily, so worked up that no one can even tell if she’s crying or fuming. “Along with every other man in the universe. Present company excluded.”

“Holy shit, sober _up_ girl.” Bewildered, Kevin sends Joaquin to get her some coffee and lead her to one of the unattended party rooms to recover. There should be one on the second floor for band members only. Then Kevin’s hands rest softly on Betty’s shoulders. “You okay little miss _Complicated_?”

Shaking her head, Betty searches the crowd for her bones, angry tears pricking her eyes. “Jughead’s not like them, right Kevin?”

“Uh—No, I think he hates everyone equally. Some less than others,” Kevin admits, trying to recollect if he’s ever said something _nice_ about anyone or genuinely smiled for anyone outside of Archie or Betty.

“No, I mean, he sees people as _people_ right?”

Squinting, Kevin tries to see through her. “Sweetie, did you have some of the witch’s brew?”

“No!” she protests despairingly, raking her nails through her hair, feeling entirely too sticky and weighed down. She doesn’t feel _herself_. “I mean…Jughead would never write my name in a playbook. He’s my friend, right? He doesn’t care about that stuff. But what about Archie? Is he my friend, or is he doing this stupid playbook too?” Betty works herself into near-hysteria, roughly pushing back her hair. “What about Polly? And Jason? I thought—I thought we were all a family…and now the band is probably going to break up the same night some skeevy producer comes to town to hear us play. And Veronica, Jughead, Archie—they need this band! They need the money!”

“Whoa, slow down. You are jumping to conclusions. Have you talked to Jason and Polly?”

Embarrassed, she shakes her head.

Kevin eases his grip on her shoulders. “Maybe they’ll work it out. Besides, worst case scenario, let’s say they do break up. We have contingency plans. I mean, we stop using the songs Jason wrote obviously…and we pick up the slack on the instruments he learned. Easy.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, sniffling. A tight part of her deep inside doesn’t _want_ Jason and Polly to work out. How could she? But it makes her feel like a terrible person for wishing it all the same.

“Sh, sh Betty. It’ll be okay. But can we agree on one thing?” Kevin waits for her sharp eyes to meet his. “No matter how a good a place it comes from, _violence does not become us._ ”

He’s right. He’s so _right_ …and yet it had felt so justified, so inevitable. What if it _does_ become her? She’s spent so much time dancing and singing and learning instruments that she’s totally ignored every other outlet. Why was her first impulse a violent one? Reeling, feeling sick, she clutches onto Kevin for support.

“I want to find Jughead. And Polly.”

 

* * *

 

Veronica feels ill…not just because she’s drunk, but because Polly and Jason are really obnoxious. Groaning, she throws an arm over her face to try and block out the sound through the walls.

“Like you’ve never talked to your friends about us hooking up?”

“I haven’t _ranked you,_ Jason! You’re the only one I’ve been with! That means you are first and last and _everything_.”

Deflecting, Jason waves a hand. “ _Everything_. Don’t be so melodramatic, Polly. It’s just some stupid guy-talk. Everybody does it.”

“Everybody does _not_ do it! It’s insensitive! Mean! How could you, Jason? Do you even love me?”

“I could ask the same of you. We never go to your house, we’re always sneaking around. It’s bullshit. This relationship is bullshit.”

“Is that what you think? You know how my parents are, Jason. I’m here as often as I can be. I thought we were soulmates!”

“Yeah, well…soulmates can let the other person _breathe_ , they don’t stare at them for five hours straight like some crazy fangirl.”

“Fangirl?” Polly sounds breathless, panicked. “I _love_ you!”

“We’re 17! God, Polly, it’s like you have no concept that next year we’re probably going to different schools, different paths. You’re so immature.”

“ _I’m immature?!_ The boy who writes down his _conquests_ in some book is calling _me_ immature?!”

The door shifts open, and Veronica half-expects it to be Joaquin again. Instead, she’s met with a sopping wet Archie Andrews. “What happened to you?”

“Um…this could be soda.”

“You smell like beer,” Veronica notes absently.

Archie’s tone falls flat, his ego still bruised. “Well, I was going to borrow one of Jason’s shirts while mine dried but…he seems a little…busy,” he finishes with a sigh, nervously shifting while the argument continues loudly in the next room.

Waving a gracious hand, Veronica tells him, “Just take it off and throw it in the sink. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Feeling self-conscious, Archie follows her instructions. Archie’s objectively attractive, his abs defined in a very nice, all-American kind of way. He’s a nice boy. Not innocent, exactly, but nice. She’s never really _been_ with a nice boy. Even her playful hip bounces make him blush sometimes, and she’s him caught him watching her spread her thighs on more than one occasion.

“Do you want to break up?! Because it’s hard to break up when we’re not even allowed to really be together,” Jason argues through the wall, causing Archie and Veronica to raise their eyebrows in surprise. Things were way more intense than they bargained for.

“Geez, and I thought I had it bad,” Archie chuckles lightly, mirth not really reaching his eyes.

“Girl troubles, Archiekins?”

“Yeah. Val dumped me. Again. Well, dumped _on_ me,” he gestures to his discarded shirt. “She said I’m a sellout and she’s not buying.”

Archie seems so down, like he _believes_ he’s worthless. Veronica narrows her eyes and sits up on the couch for a pep talk. “So what? You have like fifty girls lined up for a taste of the ginger stallion.”

“Yeah, but it’s not…a _relationship_. Those girls don’t care about me,” Archie mumbles, running a hand through his orange hair. “I mean…it’s not like Betty and Jughead. Those two have a connection.”

“Please,” Veronica rolls her eyes, throwing a leg into Archie’s lap. “Those two are still in the infatuation stage. It’s been like three minutes. I mean, real relationships…like Jason and Polly,” she gestures, the muffled noises of continued heated discussion punctuating her point. “They’re unhealthy. The only person you can depend on is yourself.”

“But Betty and Jughead are like…best friends,” he frowns, face scrunching up in drunken thought. “They’re my best friends.”

“Oh Archiekins,” Veronica giggles, finding his ignorance a little endearing. “Friends are the best. Especially friends with benefits. You’ll see one day. In college or something. You’ll be so busy with football that you won’t have time for a girlfriend. No one gets invested, no one gets hurt, and everyone gets a cuddle.”

His face flushes pink, as does the skin on the back of his neck as he rubs it raw. “Um…I was hoping we’d all still be in the band by college.”

Throwing her head back in a laugh, Veronica gestures to the neighboring room. “I think that ship may be sailing along with Jason and Polly.” It doesn’t suit Archie to be so sad. Veronica scoots closer, lifting his chin with her fingers. “Hey. You know we’re your friends, and we’ll never let you down. Betty will get you a scholarship if it kills her,” she snorts. “But in the meantime you’re a teenager. You don’t owe anyone anything, the same way Val doesn’t owe you anything. Just do you. We can still have the band. At least for a little while. Daddy can’t control _everything_ I do, and I certainly won’t let Jason or chuck be a total buzzkill on such an important night. _”_

Archie’s eyes shoot up at that. He’s _blushing,_ she notes with amusement. Such a strong jaw. Her fingers tap along it experimentally.

“Nobody can tell you what to do, Veronica. You’re so strong…and smart…and beautiful. You’re so confident out there. It’s a wonder anyone can take their eyes off of you. You’ll be fine no matter what happens, I’m sure of it.”

Feeling powerful yet silly, Veronica lets her hair fall in front of her face. “I do bring some of the _wow_ factor.”

Their eyes meet, questioning at first, but then they both subtly tilt their chins, leaning forward.

They hear Polly’s pleas, “Jason, I’m sorry if I made you feel like this relationship isn’t real. I’ll go to my parents with it. I promise you. I’m just…I’m not ready to let you go. I may never be ready to let you go. I love you so much.”

Laughing, Veronica tries to gauge Archie’s dazed expression. “A little desperate, don’t you think? So what was Polly’s score, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Score?” he asks, distracted.

“You know. The playbook.” Archie looks confused, like she just asked him about the plot of _Inception_. “Oh, Archie. You might be one of the good ones.”

Feeling a thrill, the rush of a conquest on her own terms, Veronica wraps her arms around Archie and falls into the blissful tingling sensation of his lips against hers.

 

* * *

 

Kevin gasps so sharply and pulls the door shut with such force that Betty actually jumps from the sound of it. Eyes bugging out of his head, he looks to Joaquin, who raises his shoulders as if to ask, “Um what?”

Swallowing hard, Kevin’s eyes dart back down the hall. “Um, maybe we should focus on finding Jughead instead. Polly and Jason seem like they’re probably busy.”

Betty’s face scrunches in confused distaste. “What? Are they hooking up in there?”

“No, it’s just Veronica, but she’s—“

“Oh my god, is she okay?!” she panics, headlines of drunk girls choking on their vomit pealing through her brain. She launches past Kevin to open the door. Squealing, Veronica moves to cover her top half with the spandex pooled around her waist. Betty doesn’t even fully grasp what she’s seen until a tight-lipped Kevin hauls her back out and closes the door.

It’s…

It was Archie. Underneath her friend’s half-naked was an equally half-naked Archie.

“Oh my god.”

Her brain scrambles for purchase, for reason. He’s not using her, is he? But Veronica…she’s in no state of mind to be…

Maybe Archie’s not, either.

Maybe they love each other. But that’s…impossible. They’re barely even _friends_ , let alone…(lovers?)

Are they…are they her friends at _all_ anymore?

 

* * *

 

Licking his fingers clean doesn’t seem sanitary for the sake of his bass guitar, so Jughead washes the grease off his fingers in the bathroom sink. When he reemerges, the deck seems like a better place to hang out than the confines of the party. Less people. Jughead doesn’t love the whole _people_ aspect of playing gigs. Too bad the Blossoms don’t have a dog he can hang with. If anything, they probably have a pet snake they let roam the halls, eating unsuspecting prey. That actually might make a funny song.

_Beware the Snake._

_Beware the Blossoms._

Jason might not appreciate that one. Oh well. Feeling out of place, Jughead takes a seat at the drums, remembering the last time Betty was trying to learn more instruments in case anyone got sick. Of course, still being in the wooing and crushing stage, he’d offered to show her.

He’d laughed when she held the drumsticks like pens, ready to write out the beats.

“No, like this,” he told her, rearranging her first so it curled around the rod. “Like we’re making s’mores.” Although she smiled, her wince was unmistakable. “Something wrong?”

“No—I just—I don’t like…the way that feels.” Taken aback he’d remove his hands _immediately_. “No, it’s not you. It’s…” she trails off, biting her lip. “I’m afraid my nails are too long, and that I’m going to hurt myself this way.”

Jughead wasn’t sure how to respond. Betty didn’t often voice her concerns about being hurt in _any_ way.

“Okay. How about we try something else?”

Nodding, she’d placed the drumsticks down like they could explode at any second. Weird. But that just meant he got to show her something else. Be hit into his lip surveying the remaining instruments. “There’s not much else I can fake playing. I mean, guitar is pretty close to bass so we can do that. You already know piano.”

“Do you want to learn?” she asked, so helpful, as always.

Grinning, he shook his head. “I thought this day was supposed to be about you.”

“It’s about versatility. We can take a detour. I’ll show you chopsticks.”

“This better involve Chinese food.”

She led him to the keyboard, giggling and smiling as she taught him to keep two fingers on the keys next to each other, pressing gently in quick rhythm spreading outwards. They probably didn’t need to touch as much as they did, but it was still stupidly silly fun. “If this is what you call _playing the piano_ then anyone can do it,” Jughead teased.

“Anyone _can_ do it. They just might not be able to do it _well_ ,” she smiled, leaving his hands to join in a more complicated duet, imprinting the simplest melody into a fond memory in his heart.

But that’s Betty. She makes everything better.

The gang rejoins him at their setup, almost everyone’s eyes downcast.

“What’d I miss?” he asks suspiciously. Then, nothing the party all glancing at each other. “Where’s Betty?”

“She’s coming,” Polly says softly, looking a little beaten-down. “She just needed a minute.”

Feeling dread boil in the pit of his stomach, Jughead _knows_ he’s being lied to, or at the very least misled. “Why?”

“It doesn’t _matter_ Jughead. Can you let her breathe for just a second? She’ll be here in a minute. She’s probably just getting a snack or something.” Veronica snaps, smoothing back her decidedly mussed hair. She’s sobered up quickly.

It’s still a weird reaction coming from Betty’s new bestie. They must’ve had a fight. But why does _everyone_ look guilty about it? Kevin just widens in his eyes and shakes his head in a silent, _Drama alert. Do not engage._

“So are we supposed to start the song without her?” he asks sarcastically. Everyone knows her haunting voice adds the chill to _The Killing Moon_ the song so desperately needs.

“Yes,” Jason says firmly, dignified and graceful in his costume.

Jughead’s vehemently against it, but Kevin starts counting them off anyway. He doesn’t start playing, not right away, earning the ire of Jason Blossom. But he spots Betty wandering towards them in the crowd. She must’ve found a hair tie somewhere, because now some of it is drawn back from her face. So she was coming. Why not wait for her then? Unless they didn’t _know_ if she was going to come. Steely-eyed, she seems _lost,_ like she’s working through some serious cognitive dissonance.

Everyone in the band seems drawn to her too, trying to read her reaction. What the hell?

Jason croons the song he was practically made to sing, “ _Under a blue moon I saw you. So soon you'll take me up in your arms, too late to beg you or cancel it…though I know it must be the killing time…unwillingly mine._ ”

Betty’s gaze is hard and sterile on Jason as she stalks slowly towards the stage. Distrustingly, her gaze shifts to Veronica and Archie. Even Polly and Kevin barely get a lingering glance. Jughead swallows harshly, trying to focus on strumming along, silently begging her, _see me. Please Betty, I need you to see me_.

As if hearing him, her head turns, and for a second it’s like the ice and confusion pop right out her.

What he wouldn’t give for actual telepathic powers.

_What’s wrong? Come on, I love you, Betty._

There his emotions went again. They only _just_ agreed to out that they’re dating and he’s already on the love wagon.

Swallowing harshly, Betty climbs onto the stage, avoiding looking at anyone except him, Kevin, and Polly. Her hands grip his bicep through the warm hoodie, reassuring him that she’ll be all right. But her back stays facing the audience for the first few stanzas, the other voices sounding fine but thin without her backing.

Still, when Jughead turns his head, he whispers in her ear, “Are you all right?” as if she can hear him.

Nodding subtly, she leans over her shoulder and kisses him softly on the mouth—right onstage, in the middle of the song. The electric pulse nearly travels to his hands, freezing his movements so he can keep the moment forever. But somehow his body knows what to do, and he keeps strumming even through the tingling warmth of her kiss. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss her through every song.

Even if he had to listen to Jason and Archie’s whiny love ballads for the rest of his life, it was worth joining the band just for this moment.

The moment ends, Betty nuzzling her head on his shoulder for a few more seconds, gazing carefully in the back to what he assumes is Kevin. Eventually she turns, walking slowly up to her microphone to let her voice chorus the same lines Jason sung. Everything’s going fine, he thinks, watching her spread her stance, weight shifting to the beat. There has never been, and will never be, anything more beautiful than Betty Cooper.

 

_Fate_

_Up against your will_

_Through the thick and thin_

_He will wait until_

_You give yourself to him_

 

His blonde muse drags her mic back to stand closer to Jughead ahead, everyone onstage’s eyes flickering to follow her movements. Much to his surprise, Betty’s gaze fixes on an avoidant Polly in the interim beats. Was this…some kind of sister trouble? But what did that have to do with Archie and Veronica?

Or Jason, for that matter?

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Jughead tries to enjoy the attention Betty delves onto him, tousling his hair and dancing against him, kissing him with a little less emotion when the lyrics calls for it. She’s not singing that part anyway. God, he loves that this is their job.

For the remainder of the song, Betty challenges her sister, and when that elicits no response, she wanders up to Jason. He seems more guarded, but he doesn’t flinch under her intense gaze, her voice heavy with implication through the song. She completely blows by Archie and Veronica and returns to her place between Kevin and Jughead, seemingly falling back into herself.

Yeah. This _is_ Halloween.

 

* * *

 

They set is cut blissfully short, especially once it becomes abundantly clear that Betty doesn’t want anything to do with her couch-happy friends. Annoyed, Veronica decides to dance with Archie instead. The boy is so stiff and tense, she half fears he’ll fall of the stage and use the guitar to brace the distance between them. The band is too good for this petty drama, and maybe they’re a little too tipsy for the good of the show.

“Can we talk about this?” Veronica asks bluntly once the microphones turn off.

But Betty shakes her head, “Not right now,” and the rejection of the sweetest friend she’s ever had _hurts_. Even if it’s temporary.

“Fine, I’m out of here,” Veronica sighs, calling Smithers and making sure Nick leaves before witnessing any band drama. Although he whines about never getting any alone time with any of the ladies, he’s still somewhat willing to mention them to his father. Sometimes it’s like people don’t appreciate how hard she’s working. That she has needs too. Being sweet doesn’t come _naturally_ to Veronica. Being _fun_ does. Confident. This whole…not hooking up with people just because they’re friends (or Betty’s former crush, she remembers guiltily) is ridiculous. And if Polly wants to forgive Jason, that’s _her_ business. She doesn’t know why Betty is so hung up about it.

Archie stands looking a little abandoned in the center of the stage, receiving a sympathetic clap on the shoulder from Kevin.

“Hey there, champ. Let’s say we get you sobered up and home, huh?”

“I can’t. I have to wait for Jughead,” Archie mutters miserably, glancing guiltily in his best friend’s direction.

“Why?” Kevin asks testily. “Joaquin and I can pack your stuff. It appears he _is_ the date of the century. I can’t believe our big Halloween party gig turned into Adventures in Babysitting. He’ll probably never want to see me again, and here you are whining because one of the million women who likes you left the party early.”

“Who likes me?” and then Archie gets a little fuzzy, not sure what he is and isn’t supposed to do anymore. He doesn’t even know what he _wants_ to do. He just keeps wondering _does Betty not like me anymore?_

 

* * *

 

Betty hugs Jughead with a surprising amount of force after her the set. It’s sort of unnerving, seeing as she’s one of the bravest people he knows, so he wraps his arms around her. She’s _shaking_.

Pressing kisses to her hair, he holds her tighter. “Betts, you did _so good_. You sounded beautiful, you’re amazing.”

The stream of positive reinforcement steadies her breath. He doesn’t notice that her nails are digging into him until she unlatches them and stands up straight. “You’re amazing, Jughead,” she whispers into his hoodie, some of that breath tickling his collar bone.

“Love the hair, blondie!” the pink-haired recurring fan calls a little wryly, eyeing their apparent closeness. It just makes Jughead want to pull Betty in closer. That girl must’ve snuck in at some point, because there’s no way the Blossoms had her on the list. She snaps a pic and disappears into the crowd, checking out the house with a little too much curiosity.

“Hey babe,” he starts, not sure if he should _use_ a pet name like that. Does it make him sound like a douche? “What’s going on?”

“Depends how far back you want to go.” Betty’s pretty sullen for what seems like a decent night. Jughead rubs her shoulders, hating to see her normal bubbly energy fade into something despondent. “It starts somewhere around Nick St. Claire, Veronica’s perverted producer friend.”

“Well I guess he’s not any douchier than your average Bulldog.” It’s like his flippant comment turns her stomach. He leans forward in case he has to catch her or something. “Betty, are you okay? You have nerves or something?”

“Juggie, I—“ she breaks off, green eyes dark and glistening. “Nick found out from some of the Bulldogs that they have this playbook. They score women in it, mark them as conquests. Jason put Polly in it, and Chuck lied and put Veronica.”

Stunned, Jughead doesn’t even know what to say. He knew that they had a propensity for slamming past him in the halls and making crude locker room talk, but he didn’t think they’d be _total_ asses about it.

”I think Polly and Jason are going to have to break up. I mean, that they should. But she doesn’t want to. After all that—she doesn’t even _want to!”_ Bewildered, she pads her hands against his arms, grounding herself. “Veronica and I got some kind of justice on Chuck, but there’s still the matter that Jason started it and Polly’s okay with it. I don’t know if I can work with them. They’re… _judgey people_ , and yet if either of them does something wrong it’s like it means nothing! I mean, what does this mean for the band? Is Jason’s betrayal going to screw over everyone? Are my hangups the only thing standing in the way of this success? You and Veronica need this money. Archie needs a scholarship.”

Huffing angrily, she curls deeper into his embrace, glaring at their redhead friend across the way. “As if that wasn’t enough drama, we caught Archie and Veronica going at it in the green room. It makes me feel like…I have no idea who anyone is anymore. The only people who haven’t been keeping things from me are you and Kevin,” she finishes, eyes gleaming with pain.

“Oh, shit.”

And while yes, everything happening deserves that sentiment, Jughead was just thinking of Betty. Of what he needs to tell her.

“Um, Betty? I think—“

“Yo, Jug!” Kevin gestures dramatically to a queasy-looking Archie. “I am _off_ of babysitting duty. This lug needs to be taken home so I can actually entertain my date.”

Instinctively, Betty crosses her arms. Without Veronica or riding with Jason, how is she going to get home? Polly’s bound to stay until the very end. “Do you want to ride with us?”

She hesitates, the words not quite coming out.

“Correction—may I please drive you home and shove Archie in the back so I can talk to you after?”

Feeling defeated, she nods, and they all sullenly make their way to the car. It’s an awkward ride back, and none of Jughead’s ill-fated jokes seem to lighten the mood.

“Aren’t you worried he’s going to throw up in here?” Betty asks, avoiding glancing in the back seat.

“No. It’s not my car,” he grins.

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a few more minutes before Archie interjects, “Are you mad at me, Betty?”

Oh boy.

Glowering, her jaw setting tight, Betty doesn’t respond right away. Jughead’s getting a nice glimpse of angry Betty, and hopes he never earns her ire.

Archie’s hand grabs the back of Jughead’s seat, attempting to pull himself forward. “Betty, please. I didn’t do anything wrong. Me and Veronica just—“

“You needed to pad your scorebook, huh? How many points do you _get_ for the fangirls anyway? Or are they just faces and numbers to you? Because Veronica was our _friend_.”

“No, I—I didn’t know about the playbook.” 

“Really?” she snaps, still not bothering to turn and face him. “You expect me to believe that a _freshman_ like Trev knows about it, but you remained blissfully unaware? Even after dating his sister?”

“It’s like a super well-kept secret. Maybe they knew I wouldn’t be in on it and that why they didn’t tell me. I mean, the only reason Nick knew is because he had that kinda…sketchy vibe about him.”

“Because you're some Prince Charming, taking advantage of a drunk girl during your Val-Inspired pity-party?”

“Ooh,” Jughead hisses, wincing at her accusation.

“I wasn’t taking _advantage!_ Okay, Ronnie and I were a little buzzed, but like—she came onto _me_.”

“Whatever, Archie.”

Feeling his own adrenaline rise, Jughead interrupts, “Listen guys, as important as this conversation is, I get the feeling we should have it after a long night’s rest. I’m staying at Archie’s again tonight.”

“Tonight? You mean—“

“Betty, I’ll walk you to your door.” He glares at Archie to keep his mouth shut or else he’ll have _no_ best friends for the night.

Scowling in defeat, Archie starts grabbing his stuff to move it into the garage. Feeling gentlemanly, Jug opens Betty’s door and helps her down, savoring the feeling of her hand in his.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

She looks tired. So exhausted, beaten down. He doesn’t have the heart to spring this on her tonight.

“Tonight’s not…ideal…in any sense of the word. But let's sleep on it. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

“Hey. We will.”

Their gazes meet, silently reassuring each other, and she nods. Sometimes when they look at each other he feels a hum in his chest, like they’ve invented some kind of new, nonverbal language. Pressing on her tip-toes, she plants a firm, sensuous kiss goodnight on his lips.

“‘Night, Jug.”

Even though he’s satisfied, something still tugs at his chest. It keeps gnawing at him even as he helps Archie unload the truck, and finally hits him when they’re about to go inside and he can see the faint silhouette of his girlfriend in the window across the street.

He doesn’t _want_ there to be any secrets. He doesn’t want any distance, no matter how small, to keep him from Betty.

Spotting a ladder against the garage, Jughead uses it to climb up to her window like a regular Romeo. His knuckles tap against the cold glass of her window, almost wishing he could make it a song. That might be a little _too_ attention-seeking. Surprised, face scrubbed of makeup, Betty opens the window. Her natural beauty is a welcome warmth against the cold of the outdoors.

“Hey Juliet,” he grins, basking in her appreciation.

“Well _hi_ , Romeo,” she smiles prettily, backing up so she can help him through the narrow window. “To what do I owe this surprise serenade?”

With a chuckle and a grunt he manages to stand on two feet before her. “No songs or soliloquies tonight. Unless you _really_ want them.” Pleased, patient, she sways towards him, all soft and tempting and kind and  _beautiful_. But that’s not why he’s here. “I just…I don’t want anything to stand between us.”

A little surprised, Betty takes his hand, reassuring him, “It won’t, Jug. This whole thing with Jason and Polly will blow over eventually."

“It’s not that,” he admits, licking his lips. He waits until she’s looking at him, hoping that somehow she just telepathically _knows_. When she quirks an eyebrow, he knows it's time to speak. “I, um…I didn’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve moved out of the trailer.” Her face remains carefully neutral, eyes flashing with an endearing amount of alarm and concern.

“Things with my dad…they’ve been bad. The Wyrm was the first time I’d really talked to him in months. I was staying at the drive-in until maybe he could get sober. And things with _us_ were so great, I didn’t want to be… _baggage_ , you know? I didn’t want to be the gross homeless guy in a garage band. As if I already didn’t deserve you—” Her fingers knead into him more forcefully, drawing him out of his own self-loathing. How can she be so compassionate… _all the time_? His voice hitches in his throat, trying to force the rest of it out. “So…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It just seemed like too much for any blossoming teenage relationship to bear. Good news is, Archie offered me a place to stay, at least for now, so…we’re neighbors. If you still…want me…you know.”

Her hands immediately cusp either side of his face, her expression soft and sincere. “Of _course_ I want you. I will never _not_ want you, Jughead.” A whimper stifles through his throat. Her thumb grazes his cheekbones so tenderly, so lovingly, that he feels like she could’ve molded him herself. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this—that you’ve been _going_ through this on your own. I should’ve—“ she shakes her head, disregarding the statement, blissfully _not_ making it about her. “You’re so brave and strong and resourceful and… _good_ , Jug. You’re good."

A raspy shudder works through him, her hand shifting to the back of his head.  He needs to move closer, to swallow the words as a promise to himself as much as to her. Kissing her ignites something in him, something loud and purring and yearning and he needs to use his hands, needs to fist the back of her hair or even her soft grey shirt to remind him that this is real.

 

But all he feels is swelling relief and gratitude, crashing against her sweet declaration until he can’t breathe anything except _Betty Betty Betty_ and _love love love_. 

 

 

* * *

 

Songs this chapter:

 

**I Put a Spell on You** \- Annie Lennox lyrics

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You better stop the things you do

I tell ya I ain't lyin'

I ain't lyin'

You know I can't stand it

You're runnin' around

You know better daddy

I can't stand it 'cause you put me down

Oh no

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You know I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you anyhow

And I don't care if you don't want me

I'm yours right now

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You know I can't stand it

Your running around

You know baby daddy

I can't stand it

'Cause you put me down

Ooo I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

Because you're mine

Because you're mine

Oh yeah

 

**The Killing Moon -** Echo & the Bunnymen

Under a blue moon I saw you 

So soon you'll take me 

Up in your arms 

Too late to beg you or cancel it 

Though I know it must be the killing time 

Unwillingly mine

Fate 

Up against your will 

Through the thick and thin 

He will wait until 

You give yourself to him

In starlit nights I saw you 

So cruelly you kissed me 

Your lips a magic world 

Your sky all hung with jewels 

The killing moon 

Will come too soon

Fate 

Up against your will 

Through the thick and thin 

He will wait until 

You give yourself to him

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an aside...I do not condone punching or slapping sexist a-holes even if they deserve it. One guy in high school lied to some people about me (a la Veronica/Chuck actually) and I thwapped him hard on the chest like, "YO! If it isn't THE SCOUNDREL!" While the second it took him to breathe again was satisfying in the moment, I should've taken the higher road and literally talked to his friends and girlfriend about it (yes, the idiot was claiming I seduced him despite him having a gf...idiot misogynstic...grumblegrumble). But we know drunk!Veronica and angry!Betty would not be in a place to calmly correct their accusations.
> 
> PS Nick did not get alone time with Cheryl. Or anyone. Because scenes like that make me legit nauseous even if Pussycats come in and beat the crap out of everyone. He's really more at the party to see if he can get a lot of free maple syrup if you know what I mean ;) I think only Moose shared any with him, so he stuck around to make fun of everyone and hit on cute girls in skimpy outfits before returning to NYC for the REAL parties.
> 
> By the way, I feel so bad making teenagers cry. Like, Betty has emotions. She cries a lot. I can handle that. But lil' Jug who suppresses everything so much? Choking back tears? Ah! My heart! Love these kids. Please please please comment and kudos because it always provides me with a bit more inspiration and joy. Woo! Chip away at the ol' writers block

**Author's Note:**

> Betty and Jughead playing DDR together in canon would make my life exponentially better. While I don't think Alice Cooper would approve of video games, I'm pretty sure she got a Wii to do yoga with the girls and forgot about it. Kudos and comments? Yeah?


End file.
